My Life
by randomstateofmind
Summary: My mom is a superhero. My dad ... well, I don't actually know at the moment. In three days I went from high school punching bag to becoming best friends with the Teen Titans' next generation. Everything's changed; a new dawn has broken through my life.
1. Hi, My Name Is

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, though I truly wish I did, because that would be totally awesome. Hokay? Hokay.**

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My Life

Chapter One: _Hi, My Name Is..._

Remi Angela Roth ... rolls off the tongue, does it not? I've always thought of my name as extremely unique. I mean, compared to _John _and _Mary, _it's really... well, different. I don't know about any better, though. How can one name be better than the next? How can Steve be better than Herbert, or Delilah be better than Carmen? Either way, something I've always believed is that your name defines you: your personality, your looks, and your ... well, just you! Remi Roth ... yep, that would be me, the creepy girl at school who has a total number of zero friends and only opens her mouth to snap back a sarcastic remark to a bully. Ah, good times.

I woke one morning with my alarm at full blast, which nearly scared me to death. _Mental note: tune down the volume later so I don't wake up screaming my head off! _I thought to myself as I slapped the turn-off switch. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the sunlight streaming from my window, and when that little fun time was over I went to my wardrobe mirror. God, I was a mess. There's _bed head,_ and then there's _Remi head. _Mine was the latter, obviously.

I quickly took my hairbrush and attempted to tame my wild mane. My hair was a deep, deep violet, so dark it could be mistaken for black. It was an extremely rare color, if you ask me, and what makes it even stranger is the fact that it's _natural._ I don't believe in hair dye; in fact, I don't believe in concealing your real appearance at all, which is why I never (and I mean _never_) wear make-up. Of course, hiding your appearance and hiding your true self are two totally different things, but I'll talk more about that later.

My hair, which was straight, chin-length, and accompanied with side-bangs, was smoothed to perfection in a matter of minutes. It framed my ashen face neatly, which was just the way I liked it. I stared at myself for a few moments, taking in my whole as if I had never seen my reflection before. Of course, I do this every morning, so it's nothing new. I looked intently into my own eyes like I was trying to find what's hidden beneath and what secrets they keep; they were even rarer than my hair, as they took on the color of an ocean blue-violet. I'd have to say, they are definitely my favorite feature.

A sound from down the hall broke me from my "trance", and I realized Mom was up. But it's not like she wouldn't be; she wakes up at dawn practically every day! Another odd perk of the Roth family, if you ask me; most people want to ... how do you say it? _Sleep in? _

I forced my head back into the game and quickly slid on a clean pair of ripped jeans (which is _totally _my style) and a black tee, topped off with the ol' black sneakers. To complete my get-ready escapade, I slipped into the bathroom with lightening speed and was out in a flash, teeth sparkling (end exaggeration).

My mother came into view as I walked casually through the doorway of the kitchen. She looked up from the French toast she was preparing and cast me a gentle smile, one I was accustomed to every morning. To other people, however, even the slightest show of emotions for Mom was a rare experience; she sort of locks everyone outside, peeking through a crack in the iron door to see which trustworthy people she'll be able to let in. I've always been able to see her true self, and it's probably because I'm her only daughter, the closest person in her life, family, and etc. Maybe she's afraid of betrayal, but I'm not sure. I've grown used to it over the years, and only recently have I realized how much I've become just like her. But, again, I'll talk about that later.

"Had a good sleep?" Mom asked as she flipped the toast onto a paper plate. She retrieved the butter and syrup from the refrigerator and continued to create the delicious meal.

"As good as a worm in an apple," I joked, returning her smile with a slight grin.

"That's great, because you'll need it for the test today," she replied, not looking up from her masterpiece in the makings. She got out a knife and fork from the silverware drawer and put them on a napkin next to the plate. A moment later, I grabbed a stool and took my seat at the counter, where I dug into my breakfast as if I were a starving dog. Mom started to make a cup of herbal tea for herself, and a silence fell upon us.

During this time of tranquility, I took in my mother's appearance. Her hair was shorter than mine, like an inch or so long, and it shone in the light. She had short bangs that neared her eyebrows, but that wasn't the unusual part. Her hair was violet, _naturally _violet. And I'm not talking "so dark it's almost black", like mine; I'm talking "so violet it could've come from a box of colored pencils". You can see where I get it from now, right? If you can't, than you better rush to your eye doctor soon, because your sight is in need of immediate attention!

Her skin is pale and toned grayish, like mine, and she is pretty thin, like me. You might wonder why I don't get called her twin. In addition, Mom's eyes are the exact same color as mine, only maybe more purple than blue. Another strong gene, apparently, and seeing as I resemble my mother so much, you're probably wondering what looks I inherited from my father? Well, to tell you the truth, I don't have one. Seriously, not even Mom knows who it is. When she first admitted this to me, I thought she might have been one of those good-time gals that slept around, but she instantly assured me that that wasn't the case. But what am I supposed to believe? That she just woke up one day pregnant? Highly unlikely.

I finished my toast and drained my glass of milk, which I just realized had been there the entire time. Seeing my black messenger bag waiting neatly on the sofa for me, I snatched it up and swung it over my shoulder. I looked at the clock above the microwave; it was 6:55. Mom followed my gaze, and when she looked back at me her eyebrows were raised.

"Cutting it kind of close, don't you think?" she asked with a slightly playful, yet still stern, hint in her voice. I ignored this as I gave her a hug good-bye; then, with one final wave, I left through the front door.

Across the street from my house were a bench and a stop sign; two boys were sitting down and talking, completely oblivious to my presence a few meters away. My happy demeanor vanished in a millisecond, and I could feel my face become impassive. _Time for Hell, _I thought as I walked over to them and sat down on the far side of the bench. I laid my bag on the ground by my feet, making sure to keep it distanced from a nearby puddle.

The chatter stopped abruptly, sending a queer silence over the bus stop that was only broken by a single bird twittering in a nearby tree. I sensed two pairs of eyes staring into the side of my head, but I didn't turn to stare back. Instead, I focused my attention on a weed sprouting from a crack in the sidewalk a few feet away. One of the boys mumbled something I didn't catch, and they both snickered. I took the chance and shot them a brief glance. It's confirmed; they're laughing at me. _Well,_ I thought, switching my gaze back to the ground, _it's not like I'm not used to it. They can laugh at me, sure, but they can also shove their faces up their own –_

My thought was interrupted by a sudden screeching of wheels, and I looked up to see the bright yellow bus had parked right in front of me. Grabbing my bag off the ground, I started towards the bus's open doors, but was rudely pushed aside by the two others in my company. Which was when my foot tripped over the curb and I lost my balance, tumbling into the puddle I had previously tried to avoid. Can you say, _SPLASH?_

I heard crazed laughter from within the bus, and I looked up to see faces peering out the windows at me, jeering and scoffing like a bunch of hyenas. I refrained from cursing as I stood and batted my backside, trying to get rid of as much water as possible. It was pointless. Snatching my dampened bag once more, I climbed the stairs of the bus and was immediately greeted with pointed hilarity and, get this, a paper airplane to the forehead. I have to give them credit; the morons at my school _do _have good aim. Ah yes, I know from plenty of experiences.

Taking the closest empty seat near the front of the bus, I laid my wet bag down next to me. As the wheels started up and the vehicle began to move, I attempted to squeeze out the moisture from it, hoping that my books inside were undamaged. It wasn't long before a shadow fell across my seat. I hardened my face, pausing in my drying efforts. I knew exactly who the shadow belonged to, and I _really _didn't want to deal with her right now.

"Well now, who do we have here?" sneered a very familiar, though highly disliked, voice. I looked up and narrowed my eyes scornfully at the girl towering over me. I didn't reply; she knew who I was. My blood's practically embedded into the skin on her knuckles, after all.

"What's wrong? Demons got your tongue again, Goth-Roth?" the girl mocked, baring her teeth like fangs. Bleach blond hair fell over her shoulders, and hard, dark brown eyes stared down at me as if I were a mere insect ready for the squishing. _Hell, that's what she thinks of me anyway._ Something inside me burned, compelling me to speak.

"What do you want, Lexis?" I asked in a monotone, though my words were tipped with venom. "Is your nose so big you have to stick it in everyone's business?" I heard the bus instantly quiet down; hearing _me _talk back to a bully was like seeing a mouse chasing a cat. Basically, it never happened. Usually I just sit there and take it, ignoring the insults as best I can, until the torment gets physical, however. That's when I usually start to struggle, but not today.

Though I saw a flicker of astonishment pass over her face, Lexis Macintosh hid it well and quickly recovered her composure. "Yeah right, like you don't spy on people in the bathrooms. You think we haven't noticed, creep?" This, of course, was an absolute lie, but no one would believe me if I told them. The boys on the bus laughed and made weird noises, while the girls suddenly looked strangely uncomfortable and grossed out.

"I'm no creepier than you are. With hair like that, it's no wonder you don't have a boyfriend." I heard the crowd say _"Oh snap!"_ and _"Burn!"_ and I instantly felt my confidence swell. That is, until, I saw the angered expression on Lexis's face. She pulled back her arm, fist ready to pound, but a voice over the speakers stopped her.

"That's enough!" it shouted, and I realized it was the bus driver, Sue. "I will not have blood stains on my seats, Miss Macintosh! Take one punch and you've got yourself a detention!" Lexis hesitated, as if thinking about whether she was willing to risk the confinement just to give me a black eye. But eventually, she lowered her arm.

With one last glare, she mumbled, "This isn't over, Goth-Roth!" before returning to her seat by the back of the bus. I ignored this as I silently shifted my position to stare out the window. My thoughts drifted back to Sue; she didn't really do anything spectacular, in my opinion. She was just doing her job so _she _didn't get in trouble. It had nothing to do with defending me in particular, so why do I care? _I don't, _I thought to myself, _Sue was just being selfish, and for that I'll never thank her. _My face remained emotionless throughout the entire situation, hiding everything I truly thought and felt. Now you can probably see what I meant about hiding your appearance and hiding your true self. You can also see how I've grown so much like my mother; this is _exactly_ how she is whenever we're with other people other than just each other.

When Sun Valley High School finally came into view, I waited impatiently for the bus to come to a stop. I stood from my seat just as the screeching brakes of the wheels sounded, and I was the first one out of the doors.

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**A/N – Hi, I'm randomstateofmind, and this is my first fanfic based on the Teen Titans. You might not know much about what's going on yet, but you can probably guess that this is in the future, where Remi is (cue drumroll) the daughter of the one and only ... RAVEN! **

**But anyway, tell me what you think about the first chapter, okay? I **_**really **_**want feedback, people! I wanna be an author when I grow up, so this story might actually help carve my future. Shouldn't you take that seriously?**

**New chapters will hopefully be posted every other day, so keep in touch if you like it so far! Thanks!**

**- random -**


	2. A Miracle?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans.**

My Life

Chapter Two: _A Miracle?_

The bell rang over my head just as I finished the last question on the math final. While everyone else in my class walked out the door, I went over and dropped the test on Mrs. Warfel's front desk. She shot me a pleasant smile, one I didn't return. I might have considered doing so if I wasn't in such a cruddy mood. Ever since Lexis and mine's little show on the bus, I've gotten dirty looks, nasty remarks, and shoves down the hall _all day_. I blocked almost everything out, ignoring it with a blank face, but that last comment was about my mom, calling her a slutty whore and all that jazz, and it _really _pissed me off.

_Ugh... _I grumbled inwardly, making my way down the crowded hallway to my locker. _Why does life have to suck when I should be happy school ends in two days?! _I grabbed my books and shoved them into my bag, which had dried completely since this morning along with my backside. Just as I shut my locker, something caught my eye. I turned to see a group of five girls clearing a path through the crowd, heading straight towards me. I looked closer and saw that the group was led by Lexis Macintosh, and a pit swelled in my stomach. I did _not _want to cope with _her!_

Turning around, I swung my bag over my shoulder and walked through the crowd, gracefully sliding between people as I increased my pace. Usually, I would've just stayed and endured the beating, but I was in a _really _bad mood. So what if I thought running away was pointless? I just wanted to get home.

Some insults were spat at me as I passed through the school, but I ignored them. All I cared about as I burst out the front door was ...

... catching the bus, which I obviously failed to do as I watched it zip pass me. My heart filled with dismay; I _knew _Sue wasn't really my friend, but it's not like finding out it was true was a shocker. I heard footsteps behind me and I instantly took off, my feet going a hundred miles per hour (or so it felt). I didn't waste time looking behind me to see if I was actually being followed; I knew I was, anyway. It was like a sixth sense.

I didn't care if I was going towards my house or not; I was just trying to lose them. I heard shouts behind me, and I risked glancing over my shoulder and saw Lexis and her gang chasing me ... on bikes. Where the _hell_ did they get bikes? My anger was continually rising at this atrocity against me. _Why does God hate me so frickin' much? _I shouted to myself, and seeing the corner rounding ahead of me, I turned it with hope of finding a quick place to hide.

Bingo; God may not like me, but he did allow me to stumble upon a construction site. I jumped between the caution signs and raced around the giant dirt mounds and work machines. I had the brief second to wonder where all the workers were when I heard Lexis call from behind me, much closer than before.

"Come on, Goth-Roth!" she cried, and I heard her friends snigger, "Come on, you cowardly bitch! I told you this wasn't over!" I was making my way around another dirt dune when a bike came out of no where and slammed right into my side. I refrained from yelping in surprise as I flew to the ground, my bag leaving my grasp.

Next thing I knew, they had surrounded me, riding in circles around me and trapping me in their orb of doom. I know; dark, is it not? I stood up, not bothering to brush myself off, and watched as Lexis climbed off her bike and let it drop to the ground. Her gang followed suit, and they quickly made an enclosed circle around me. My face remained impassive, though deep down I was slightly afraid of what was to come. I had never faced an entire _gang _beating me up before; they always came at me individually.

Before I could do anything, Lexis's fist made contact with my cheek, sending my head spinning. "That's for that smart remark about my hair, Roth!" she hissed, and before I could re-balance myself, another punch landed in my gut. I felt the air _whoosh _out of my lungs, and more hits came immediately after that. I felt so helpless, unable to do anything to stop the never-ending poundings, unable to stop the hatred. My hands made their way to cover my face, and my knees buckled underneath me after a rapid rally of kicks. Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed my hair, yanking it upward; my hands were stripped from my swollen face, making me stare into the hard, stone eyes of my worst enemy. "Had enough yet?" Lexis stated, ice dripping off her every word, "I hope not, because we're not going to stop until I hear you _scream!_"

I clamped my mouth shut defiantly and gave her the coldest, meanest death glare I could muster, but the only thing that got me was a vicious punch straight in the mouth. I landed flat on my back and resisted the urge to cry; the pain was unbearable. Blood was pouring from my gums, and if I find a loose tooth after this whole thing blows over I swear I'm going to sue! I lifted my head and saw that the girls were laughing, paused in their efforts to destroy me. Now was my chance. As fast as I could, I got to my feet and ran, ran, ran! I didn't know which direction I was headed, but it wasn't long before I realized I was being followed. My body was weak and losing whatever energy it had left, so if I thought I was going to outrun them, _fat chance! _

As if irony was against me like everyone else, a hand clamped around my arm and jerked hard, spinning me on my feet so I came face to face with one of the girls. She grabbed both my wrists and brought them behind my back, holding them firmly. I struggled to break free, but stopped when a knuckled punch landed on my ribs. _Ow, _I thought, but there was no way in Hell I was going to admit it out loud. I wasn't going to satisfy these worthless monsters.

Punch after punch after punch ... they just kept coming! Blood was dripping down my chin, marking the ground forever in dark red. My eyes squeezed shut and my body started to shake as I felt compelled to vomit; that's how bad the pain felt. My attackers noticed this, and instead of pounded even harder and laughing about it like I thought they would, they stopped. Ok, _totally_ unexpected.

"Um ... Lexis?" I barely heard the girl holding my wrists say, "Don't you think we might have gone too far?"

"She's still standing, isn't she?" shot Lexis's reply, but this wasn't true. I would've collapsed long ago, but the girl holding my wrists was holding me up. I felt my knees quiver, and my eyes remained shut.

"Look ... I don't want to go too deep in case ..." the girl, a different one than before, let her sentence trail off. There was a short, odd silence, and the grip on my wrists was released. I slumped to the ground at once, my head between my knees. Every ragged breath I took was painful, and it sent horrible shudders throughout my entire body. I just wanted it all to end!

A few minutes passed and nothing happened; slowly, I raised my head and squinted my eyes open. Lexis was whispering to her group a few yards away, obviously arguing with them over what they should do with me next. The four girls in her company all apparently thought the same thing: that the damage was done and they should leave me be. But Lexis thought different. I caught some of her words, something along the lines of "she deserves it". Obviously, I strongly disagree, but it's not like my opinion counts.

I tried to shift to a stand position, and a small grumble escaped my mouth without my realizing it. This caught the gang's attention, and all five heads turned to stare at my disfigured self. "Look at her, Lexis!" cried one of the girls, her finger pointed at me and a look of anger on her face, "She can't even stand up! Why would you want to torture her more?"

"Because!" shouted the blond, who stomped over to me and grabbed my hair roughly in her hands. "I haven't heard her scream yet! If the pain we've caused is really so bad, than why hasn't she screamed? Huh?" Her face suddenly whipped to look at mine. "Why won't you cry, bitch? _Why!?_" In one swift movement, Lexis pulled me to a stand by my hair and pushed me back with so much force I thought I was flying. And for that one single moment, where no one was touching or hitting or shouting at me, I felt totally at peace.

Until unbelievable, ferocious, absolute pain erupted in my back and stomach, quickly spreading through the rest of my body like an out-of-control disease. My voice caught in my throat and my eyes went completely wide in shock as I looked down at what caused this agony.

A long, extremely sharp spike was protruding from my abdomen, stained in glistening scarlet blood that was so dark it almost looked black. It was the most horrifying thing I've ever seen, and I almost forgot that it had pierced _my body. _Though it was the hardest thing I've ever done in my lifetime, I managed to turn my gaze away from the spike and look at the group of girls. They were frozen in alarm, their faces petrified and masked with sheer terror. Lexis looked like she was about to faint. For several long moments, a strange, deadening silence overtook us all, shrouding the construction site like mist on a graveyard.

Then I screamed. Hell, I screamed so loud and so high it was terrifying. I never screamed, _never, _but this pain ... it was too much! I forgot all about the bruises and the scratches and the beatings; my mind was completely focused on the large piece of metal stabbed completely through my body.

I barely noticed the nervous hands grabbing at me, slowly sliding me off the spike. It hurt like white fire was engulfing me into a pool of anguish! Something came up into my throat, and my screams were forced to a halt as I spat up what seemed like gallons and gallons of blood. My hands clutched the hole in my body, as if they could actually do something to seal it up. For several minutes I was oblivious to my surroundings; all I thought about was the pain.

I opened my eyes to what I believed was the last time before the suffering took over completely. I found myself hunched on the ground in a pool of hot, sticky blood ... and utterly alone. Lexis was gone. _Everyone_ was gone. I was left to die ... _oh my God, I'm going to die! _Panic added to the pain, and I tried desperately to calm myself. I put more pressure on the wound, hoping it would slow the bleeding – because that's what they always say in movies, right? – but all that did to me was make me throw up more blood and collapse on my side. I squeezed my eyes shut once again.

I was fading ... fading into the light ... so many pretty colors ... why is the sky blue, anyway? ... What's with raccoons? ... _NO! Focus, Remi! _I told myself, and my brow furrowed as I turned every ounce of my attention on the pain. I just wanted it to go away ... to leave and never return ... I just wanted this entire thing to have never happened!

Fresh shock overcame me when I realized the pain was subsiding. I opened my eyes to a squint and saw a glowing white light. It was blinding, and I would've ripped my gaze away, but something compelled me to keep looking. I couldn't turn away ... not now. _Maybe I did die, _I thought fuzzily, _Maybe this is the light of the heavens. Maybe..._

The light faded away instantly, leaving me to stare confusedly at the darkening sky. My body was stripped of all the pain, all the agony I had just endured. _What the...? _I made to sit up, only to find that my body was incredibly weak and tired all over, but not injured. I looked around me to find I was still in the construction site, and the setting sun cast gloomy shadows all over. My hand subconsciously went to the spot where the spike had struck me; it was completely healed.

_Okay ... maybe God _does _love me after all, _I concluded, total befuddlement taking my mind over. I was fully healed, and the sky looked like hours had passed by, but what happened? How am I still alive and well?

I shook my head and shuffled to my feet. _Just be thankful, Remi, _I told myself, _Forget about what happened. Think of it as a bad dream and move on. You're alive, and that's all that matters. _I followed my own advice and started to search the place for my bag. It took me a while, and it wasn't until after the sun completely set did I discover it lying loosely on a small mountain of dirt. Snatching it up, I turned my back on the construction site and walked out, feeling like the living dead.

**

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****A/N - Ohhh! So what happened to Remi after she fell on the spike? Can anyone guess? I know! But duh, I have to know. It's my story, right? I tried my best on the description of the pain she was in, so tell me what you think about that. And, as always, keep Reading and always review! Thanks!**

**- random -**


	3. An Ocean of Explanations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans**

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My Life

Chapter Three: _An Ocean of Explanations_

The walk home was long, dark, slow, and tiresome. Just because I felt no pain didn't mean I wasn't still weak! It was almost midnight when I gently glided the front door open, my eyelids heavy with exhaustion. A sudden creak broke the dead silence, and I froze in position, afraid of getting caught and then having to explain myself. My muscles burned to relax, but I wouldn't let them until I got into bed.

When I felt it was safe to move again, I made my way inside and quietly shut the door behind me. As soon as I heard the lock _click, _the lights unexpectedly snapped on. I swear my heart stopped beating for at least five seconds. Turning on my heel, I felt a lump of dread form in my throat when I saw Mom sitting on the sofa, her hand still raised to where she turned on the lamp next to her. She was in a bathrobe, as if she had just gotten out of bed, and yet her hair looked like it was styled two minutes ago.

"Remi," she stated calmly, her face deadpan. I gulped; man was I in for it, big time! Mom gestured for me to sit, and that I did. I dropped my bag elegantly on the floor by my feet and turned to face her, letting out a nervous breath I didn't know I was holding in. My mother looked like she was about to say something, but she stopped when she caught sight of my shirt. An unusual glint crossed her eyes for a millisecond before vanishing again. "What happened tonight?" she asked, looking me in the eye once more.

"Um ..." I stalled, struggling to stay locked in Mom's gaze, "It's ... it's rather hard to explain..." Mom didn't say anything, so I took a deep breath and continued. "After school, I sort of got chased by these girls. They followed me on bikes, even after I tried to hide in a construction place." I paused to see if she had any comments, but there were none. "They caught up to me, and ... well, they kind of beat the living crap out of me. This one girl, Lexis, wanted to do more to me, but the rest of them thought I had 'deserved enough'."

I looked down at my fidgeting pale hands in my lap; I couldn't tell her the next part straight in the eye! It was just too ... strange. _She might not even believe me! _I realized suddenly, _What if she thinks I'm making this stuff up? Not only is the glowing white light and magical healing farfetched, but I don't have a single cut or bruise from head to toe that proves I even got beat up!_

"And then ..." I went on, contemplating whether I should tell the truth or not. I never lied to Mom before, not even when I was five and I ate the last cupcake before dinner. I came clean then, so why can't I come clean now? _Because you'll sound like a lunatic! _I shouted inwardly at myself, but I quickly made my decision. "And then something weird happened. Something I can't really explain quite clearly. You see, Lexis picked me up and ... I think she shoved me backwards or something ... and I landed on this ..." I shuddered, "... this spike. It went right through me ... right here..." I raised my hand to touch the revealed, unbroken skin behind the hole in my shirt. Mom flicked her gaze at it for only an instant before returning her eyes at mine. I forced myself to look into them, to try and show that what I was saying was absolutely true.

"There was so much pain, Mom," I whispered, my stomach clenching as I tried not to cry at the memory, "There was so much pain ... and blood ... I screamed! The girls pulled me off the spike before they ... they left me there. I guess they panicked or something ... I don't know." The back of my throat was starting to burn, and I could feel tears well in my eyes, but I blinked them back and kept going. "I thought I was going to die ... I _knew _I was going to die, right then and there. But ... the pain suddenly faded. There was ... this strange, bright light that blinded me when I opened my eyes. I remember I couldn't look away from it, no matter how much it stung. After that ... after the light disappeared ... I ... I was ..." I struggled over the words that could describe the miracle, but then thought it would be easiest to just say it flat out.

"I was ... healed," I breathed, "... completely healed. I have no idea how it happened, but when I stood up I felt totally fine. The hole in my stomach was gone, along with all my wounds from the beating. I can't explain it any more, Mom!" I suddenly cried desperately and sadly, hoping with all my heart that she would believe me and that I wasn't going insane. I felt tears roll down my cheeks, but didn't move to wipe them away. My lip quivered as I stared into my mother's eyes, but to my surprise it was _she _who turned away.

A long, uncomfortable silence settled over the house as Mom sat in thought, her face like stone and her eyes out of focus. I took this time to wipe my face clean with my hand; I didn't realize how much I cried! I sniffled, and that apparently snapped my mother out of her trance. She looked at me again, and I was confused to see new understanding in her eyes. Confused ... yet somehow relieved. She took my hands in hers, and I felt comforted just by that alone.

"I think ..." she started, with her voice strong and confident compared to mine, "... I think I should've told you this earlier, but I was waiting for the right time ... the time when I was sure you'd understand first-hand." Okay, now I was _really _puzzled.

"What do you -" I began to ask, but she gently held up her hand to quiet me.

"I know exactly what happened to you," she continued, "and I could just tell you straightforward, but it wouldn't make any sense. You need the full story. You see," she took a deep breath, "When I was your age, I was a Teen Titan. Yes, it's true," she added when she saw my eyes widen. _A Teen Titan? A superhero? Whaa...?_ I wanted to say something, but she held her hand up for silence once more and began to explain everything.

"But that was in my past. When I became pregnant with you, I left the team to try and raise you in normality. I guess I just wanted you to live a regular life, something I've never had but desired from time to time. That and I wanted to protect you."

"From who?" I managed to whisper, my mind trying to grasp around all this new knowledge at once.

"Who do you think? The Titans had enemies, and most would likely get to me through you, and I loved you too much to let that happen." Mom saw my face contorted in struggled comprehension, and she added softly, "I still love you, Remi, with everything inside me. You know that, right?"

I looked into her violet eyes. Something inside me clicked. This is so wrong, so messed up, so ... unreal. _Why would she keep this from me all my life? I'm sixteen now! She could've told me when I was ten and I would've understood! She knows that, too, so why the hell did she wait? And the fact that she was a hero is unbelievable all in itself, but I have to believe her. She's Mom, and she never ever lied to me ... but ... wait ... _My eyes narrowed with realization, my cheeks starting to flush with anger. _Yes, she has. She's been lying to me all my damn life, and I trusted her with every little pathetic thing I've got. I can't believe anything she says ... I can't ... not ever again! I can't –_

"I know you're angry," Mom suddenly broke into my thoughts, "And confused. I would be too, and I understand what this means to you. Your entire _life_ is about to change because of this; you need to know that."

"Why would it?" I said, with my monotone voice louder and stronger than before; the hint of hostility was clearly obvious. "Why would my life change?"

"Because that light you saw, right before you were healed, it wasn't some miracle. It was you."

I have to admit, I didn't see that one coming.

"I'm an empath. I have powers that link with my emotions and my soul, and now I see that they're beginning to blossom in you as well. _You_ healed yourself tonight, and it took a great amount of energy and time to do it, am I right?" I didn't know what else to do but nod half-heartedly. "I have to say I didn't expect you to inherit my abilities."

I snorted. "Why wouldn't I? I've inherited all your other genes." I said distastefully, referring to how much we look alike. She gazed at me solemnly, and I just had to ask. "How can I believe you? You've lied to me for so long, I ... how can I know that you're telling the truth?"

Mom sighed and glanced over at the marble top counter, which separated the living room from the kitchen, and said without looking back at me, "Would you like a glass of water, Remi?"

Taken aback by this random question, I responded, "Um ... sure?" And the next thing that happened almost, _almost, _made me gasp. My mother raised her hand in front of her, muttered something under her breath, and just when I thought I'd seen it all, her eyes started to glow a pure white. Her hand covered in a radiant black energy, and as I watched wide-eyed, the door to the fridge soundlessly opened. The water pitcher came zooming out, similarly encased in the same energy, and when the refrigerator shut itself, two glass mugs flew from the cabinets. My mother easily poured the water into the cups _with her mind_, and after setting everything down on the coffee table, she released the black energy and her state turned back to normal. She looked at me.

"Do you believe me now?" She asked, and I barely caught the touch of amusement in her voice. I didn't respond; I _couldn't _respond. It was, like, physically impossible for that to ever happen, and yet it did, right it front of my own eyes.

_Holy crap._

"Holy crap," I voiced my thoughts, and my mother smiled. It was so warming, so comforting; I couldn't resist smiling back.

"Now, I need to tell you something else," Mom said, taking her glass of water and sipping.

"What else could possibly surprise me at this point?" I said sarcastically, following her lead and taking a drink. It was chilling to my throat, and I eagerly gulped down more.

"I said I was part of the Teen Titans, but I gave that up when I had you," she continued, then added more quickly, "and you need to know that I don't blame you for my decision." I nodded; _that _was something I actually understood without question. "Well, when you turned thirteen, I was offered to join back up again, and I thought about it for months before I decided to accept."

"Wait a second. You're a Titan? Again? How come I've never noticed your mysterious disappearances or whatever?"

"I guess I'm just that clever," she replied with a look, and I just had to laugh. The tension of the news breaking dissipated before us as we continued to talk. I asked ten times more questions in one night than I had in my entire life, and she had an answer to every one of them. It was strange, but I felt even closer to my mom now that she had been totally honest with me, that I knew she was the infamous Raven of the Titans, that I learned she could levitate and teleport and do so many other magical things it didn't even sound like her anymore. But it was her; there was no doubt in my mind that it was her.

It must have been three in the morning when we finally called it a night. I gave her one last loving hug before going to bed. Quickly changed and brushed, I slid under the covers and closed my eyes, only just realizing how exhausted I was. _Man, was today long. And I got almost everything done on my checklist! One, get bullied to the point of near death. Two, discover new healing power that I have absolutely no control over. Three, learn over a million secrets about my mother that I never would have thought possible. Huh. The only thing I forgot to do was join the circus and have meaningless sex with anything that moves. _I yawned. _Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. _And with that last thought, I drifted into a sleep so deep it was like the bottom of the ocean.

* * *

**A/N - So sorry for the extra day delay, but my computer was acting screwy. So, has everyone gotten things cleared up? Ya? You understand what's happening? Ya? Goot. Please tell me what you think! I LOVE reviews! **

**- random - **


	4. Payback's A Bitch

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans

* * *

My Life

Chapter Four: _Payback's A Bitch _

I woke up to the alarm blaring in my head. _Forgot to lower the volume again, _I thought groggily. I had gotten less than three hours of sleep last night, and that plus the huge amount of drama and surprises that filled my day yesterday equals a very tired and very cranky me. I slid out of bed like a snake, and after a quick pit-stop in the bathroom next door, I took a look in my mirror.

I wasn't shocked to see that black eyes and oozing bruises hadn't appeared mysteriously during the night. _So yesterday _did _happen ... I really healed myself, didn't I?_

_Well, aren't I special? _I thought sarcastically, brushing my hair and getting ready for the day. I came out into the kitchen wearing a fresh dark blue tee and another pair of ripped jeans (like I said before, they're my style). Mom was waiting for me as usual, preparing a bowl of cereal. "You might want a jacket today," she said, smiling, "It's going to get a little chilly." I nodded; there was something ... peculiar about my mom this morning, but I couldn't tell what it was. I ate quickly, making sure to drain the milk from the bowl when I was finished. I looked around, confused that my messenger bag wasn't where I left it, until Mom said, "I thought maybe I should drive you to school today, Remi."

"Why?"

"Can't a mother offer a ride out of devotion?" she replied, then added, "And your stuff is already in the car."

"That solves the case of the missing bag, then," I mumbled, very curious as to why my mother was acting so ... different. _Hopefully it has something to do with what I learned about her last night, _I thought, grabbing a black jacket off the rack on the wall and making my way out the door, _Otherwise, I'd be even more confused. _I stopped when I saw the bus stop across the street. Those same two boys were there, and apparently I caught their eye because they turned to stare at me. One of them made a face. _Yeah, real mature, _I sneered inwardly as I slid the jacket over my arms and zipped it halfway. I entered my mother's blue Sedan, my face emotionless once more, and soon after Mom joined me, we hit the road.

"So," I started, "why do you _really _want to take me to school?" She glanced at me, an innocent look on her face. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, if you must know," she replied, eyes back on the road, "I wanted to ask if you could meet a friend of mine after school today, back at the house."

"And that needed an occasion because ...?"

"Because you came home at midnight last night, remember?"

"But -"

"Yes, I know it was because of the accident. I completely understand that. I just wanted to warn you to be more cautious today, avoid those same girls and anyone else who might cause trouble."

_So, basically the whole school?_ I thought, and I assured her that I would do my best to be invisible. "But who am I meeting?" I asked, being the nosy little girl I can be. Mom slowed at a stop sign and watched intently as the crossing guard helped a group of younger kids to the other side of the street. Something passed through her eyes, a feeling I couldn't distinguish.

"I remember when you were that small," she whispered, so softly I barely caught it. "Like it was yesterday, I remember it. But ..." she trailed off as the guard signaled her to go, which she did. Shaking her head, she looked at me briefly. "He's just a friend I've known since ... well, since I was about your age, actually. Maybe a little younger, though."

"Oh _God_, is he my _dad_?" I asked incredulously.

"What?! No, no!" Mom's violet eyes widened at the statement, and I grinned. "I was telling the truth when I said I didn't know who your father was! No, he's just ... well ... you'll know when you see him. No more questions. Just come after school so he and I can talk to you about something, okay?"

I nodded, amused by my mother's reaction. The rest of the ride went on in silence, so I got lost in my world of thoughts once more. I never really wondered who my father was; it was always me and Mom to the end, no one else. I did go through a short period of nagging about him when I was about nine years old, always questioning what he looked like and where he was. The answer was always the same: "I don't know." Eventually, I gave up and soon forgot all about my father. Well, never completely forgotten, of course, but I moved on with the matter and never really brought it up again. _If my dad wants to know me, he can come and find me, _I told myself as we turned a corner, Sun Valley coming into view. _I'm not going out of my way any longer. _

The car pulled to a stop in front of the school, and I gracefully slid out, shutting the door behind me. My mother cast me a quick smile before driving off, leaving me in my worst nightmare. I turned and faced the building, my eyes blank and my expression ... well, expressionless. _Here we go again, _I thought, and I gracefully slid through the doors and inside.

* * *

"Outta my way, loser," a random eleventh-grader snarled, pushing me aside as I made my way down to lunch. I ignored him and walked faster, anxious of my surroundings. I had avoided contact and sight from Lexis and any other of the girls who jumped me yesterday afternoon, just like Mom told me to. What a good daughter I am. I think I deserve a cookie ... or two ... or twenty; either way.

I walked into the cafeteria and headed straight for the same table I sit at every day ... alone, of course. Except this time, I had a bit of an interruption on the journey there.

"Yo, Roth!" I heard the idiot behind me call, but I ignored him. _Loner survival 101: curl in a ball and they'll grow bored with you ... I hope. _Suddenly, I felt a chilling, sort of squishy sensation on the bottom of my neck, slowly making its way down my back; it felt like warm ice was placed down my shirt, which isn't as pleasant as you may think. I stopped and wiped my hand over it with a blank look, expecting spaghetti or something. But my eyes widened in horror when I saw my hand covered in glistening blood ... _my _glistening blood! _What the hell did that bastard do to me?! _I screamed in my head as my body started to shake in panic and fear, as well as anger. _I swear, if he tries to kill me too, I'll ... wait a minute..._

I spun around and caught sight of a really tall guy (I think his name is Chase, but who cares?) laughing his head off. A red bottle lay in his grasp, and a liquid of similar color dripped from the end. It wasn't blood on my neck, but –

_Ketchup? _I thought, all my fear replaced with incredible ferocity. I felt my cheeks burn in rage and humility as Chase and half the cafeteria laughed in my face. _Out of all the things to do to me, this dumbass shoots me with a condiment? _I would've thought more on the matter, but apparently I don't have the power to become invisible. Fresh shock overcame me as the hysterical maniac lifted the bottle again and _SQUIRT!_ Right on my shirt ... right in my face.

_That's it, I'm done, _I thought as I felt my feet start to fly. Out the cafeteria, down the hall, through a door, and into a bathroom stall ... that's where they took me. _UGH! _I screamed with frustration inside my own head, which _can't _be healthy. _Why can't I just have one stupid good day?! Why does everyone have to spit in my face one way or another? I just want to be left ALONE! _I summoned all my strength and kicked the tiled wall of the bathroom, hoping it would help. It didn't, so I kicked it again ... and again ... and _again_...

Yes. I have problems.

I forced one last thrust before falling to my knees, and that's when the world started to catch up to me. This morning, yesterday seemed like one big blur, but now its reception was crystal clear. The chase ... the beating ... the fear ... the hate ... the blood, pain, and misery ... I couldn't stop any of it! All I wanted was to be left alone, to go home in peace! Why is that such a difficult thing to receive? It should be easy! _Life _should be easy! Why does it have to be so complicated? Why does everyone have to make it so frickin' horrible to the point where I _wish _I died yesterday?! _Why, dammit, WHY!?_

Salty tears dripped into the corners of my mouth, tempting me to lick them away. I was holding myself so hard, so tight that you'd think I was cold, but nothing in me was frozen except my heart. And I know that sounds cheesy, but it's absolutely true. I didn't realize my nails digging themselves into my arms until they broke the skin, and real blood that once coursed through my veins started to leak onto my lap, staining my jeans black. My sobs of anguish were silent, but the shuddering of my body was getting out of control.

The sound of the door outside creaking open made my heart stop, and I froze in position with my ears alert and my eyes wary of my surroundings. Footsteps echoed around the room, more than one person, this I could tell. I heard murmurs, but I was so clogged up I couldn't make out the words. Then ...

"I can't do this anymore, Lexis!" a voice practically shouted. I gulped dryly and slowly stood up within the stall, cut off and hidden from the group. Peeking through the crack in the door, I saw with even more dismay five girls – Lexis and all the others that jumped me.

"Keep your voice down!" hushed the blond, her eyes wide but her voice stern. She'd make a good class president if she wasn't psycho. Lexis visibly took a deep breath before continuing. "I thought we went over this already. We aren't going to mention what happened yesterday to anybody ... not a word, get it, Mika?" The first girl, a brunette with obvious sense, quieted and lowered her head in defeat. But the others wouldn't succumb that easily.

"Look," started the tall one, and I realized this was the girl who had held my hands back. Fury blazed within me for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with more misery. "I don't want to live my life in a lie, either, but we saw what you did, Lexis, and –"

"What _I_ did?" Lexis whispered incredulously, "This _isn't_ all my fault, okay? We're _all _responsible, and we're _all _witnesses! But that's the thing; don't you see? We're the only ones who know what happened. No one will ever know it was us, so there's nothing to worry about ... _nothing!_"

_Oh, I wouldn't say that, _I thought mischievously, and it was like all the ideas in the world suddenly came to me. I had a plan, and sure it was risky, but it's a little something I call _payback_. My depressed demeanor vanished in an instant as I silently stood and went over to the mirror above the sink in my individual booth. I kept my ears attentive of the assemblage as I took in my appearance.

"I can't keep this up," a new voice mumbled, so quietly I barely heard her.

The whites of my blue-violet eyes were red and bloodshot, contrasting greatly with the dark circles beneath them. My pale cheeks were still smothered in ketchup, so I quietly took a piece of toilet paper and smeared it away, leaving the skin spotless. But it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Stop, Jen, you need to get your head straight," Lexis whispered harshly, just as I took the ketchup on the back of my neck and rubbed it on my teeth, allowing some to dribble over my chin.

"No, don't you see?" Jen said, her voice quivering. "I saw her ... _today_."

I froze, startled and confused. _I had been so careful ... how could one of them see me?_

"Are you joking with us, girl?" a fifth voice replied, obviously more shocked than me.

"I w-wish ..." she sounded on the verge of tears, and her voice started to stutter and stall. "B-but it's true. Sh-she was walking down the h-hallway and ... how is it possible?"

"It _isn't _possible," Lexis cried, then, lowering her voice she added, "You couldn't have seen her, Jen, but you probably just _thought _you saw her. You probably ..." her sentence trailed, and there was an awkward silence. I sighed inwardly and went back to work, wiping the "blood" off my shirt and massaging it onto my hands. I grouped the rest of the ketchup into one particular spot on my stomach area before looking in the mirror once again. _Something's missing, _I thought, then it came to me. I bent down and shook my violet hair violently before flipping my head up, so it was one big mess. I examined my reflection.

I looked like death. My pale skin that was even paler from crying added the most incredible touch, and my eyes were bulging to the point where even I thought they would pop out and explode. The ketchup in my mouth slid into the crevices between my teeth, creating the image of me getting punched in the face. _Déjà vu, much?_ I double-checked the girls were still out there. They were huddling and whispering to each other, and I had to strain my ears to catch even the faintest wisps of the conversation.

"... we agree that yesterday never happened?" Lexis asked, her face hard as stone. The tall girl and the other one nodded, but Mika, who was holding a silently sobbing Jen, straightened bravely. Excitement and anticipation swelled in my stomach.

"We can't just ignore this!" she protested, "Jen actually _seeing _her proves that this will never leave our minds ... ever! Remi is _haunting _us, Lexis! And it's only going to get worse."

"Don't be so ridiculous! There are no such things as ghosts!"

And that's my cue. With all my might, I swung the door to the bathroom stall open, hearing it slam against the wall and feeling its ominous vibration flow through me. The girls leapt five feet in surprise, and an ear-splitting scream erupted from all of them when they saw my face, when they realized who I was.

There I stood, bloody and deathlike, standing straight and yet crooked, brave and yet timid. I sent a purely evil stare at each of them in turn, one bleeding hand clutching my abdomen while the other formed a fist of vengeance. This is what they saw ... but what I saw was fear, panic, disbelief, and absolute sheer terror across all their faces. And knowing it was me who had caused this onto them in particular ... well, that just sent chills of satisfaction down my spine. And without any regret, let me tell you.

"You ..." I breathed, my voice rough not only by act, but because it was still a bit dry from my sob fest earlier. I raised my "bloody" hand and pointed straight at Lexis; I could tell from where I was that she was about to vomit. I took a limping step forward, leaning on one side as if the hole in my stomach was still there. Everyone scurried away from me, shaking so much it was hilarious.

But I held my laughter as I suddenly shouted with all the darkness I could muster in my voice, "YOU! ALL OF YOU! YOU KILLED ME, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The next few incredible seconds were a blur. I lunged at them, my teeth blaring like I was going to bite them, my fists waving as if I was going to smash their brains in. So yeah, they screamed! Lexis fell over her own feet and scrambled out the door, followed by the other four who looked as pale as ghosts. Oh, if irony could kill, I'd be dead already. As soon as they left, any sane person can guess what happened: I burst out laughing! I couldn't breath I was cracking up so hard, and eventually I found myself down on my knees, my hands clutching my stomach in actual pain. Oh man, it was awesome, it was priceless!

If only you were there to see it.

* * *

**A/N - I am sooooooooooo sorry times a trillion for the delay, but I have a life away from the computer that I have to tend to. It's like a garden, and I can't let the plants die or ... well, they'll die! Anyway, REVIEW! I love reviews, peeps, so keep 'em coming! I only got five so far, but the more I get, the meatier the chapters will be! You know what I'm talking about.**

**- random -**


	5. The Voice of Direction

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans**

* * *

My Life

Chapter Five: _The Voice of Direction_

It took me a really long while to calm down, and after that I still had to clean up my appearance. I couldn't go walking around wearing ketchup blood, now could I?

"Miss Roth, you're late," stated Mr. Deane as I quietly slid inside the classroom five minutes after the bell rang for lunch to officially end. Everyone in my world literature class glanced up and snickered at me ... all at the same time. _Talk about synchronized sneering, _I thought as I went over to the teacher.

"I had a little ... accident during lunch," I explained in a monotone, gesturing towards my dark blue shirt. It was soaked in water with tiny remnants of soap and paper towel dotting it white, the only things I could use to try and clean myself up after my little revenge party. "It took some time to –"

"Yes, yes, very well," he waved his hand in annoyance. He didn't care. Neither did I. "Take your seat. You'll have less time to take the final than everyone else, but I'm _sure _you'll manage." That emphasis on the "_sure" _didn't sound too convincing, but I obeyed anyway. I ignored insults and avoided giant feet that tried to trip me as I glided down the aisle and plopped down in my desk. The jeering soon ceased, and I turned my attention to the test.

_Who was elected leader of the schoolboys that crashed down on the island in "The Lord of the Flies"? I think it was Ralph ... or Jack? Ugh! I can't concentrate! This never happened to me before! I _always _had good focus!_

The class ticked by as I sat in thought, my hand rhythmically tapping the end of my pencil against the desk. The only thing written on my paper was my name. It was pathetic, especially for me.

_What is _with _me today? Ever since yesterday, I can't ... _Suddenly, like a smack in the face, it dawned on me. _Of course! Everything that happened, all the stuff I found out, it's clogging my concentration! I still don't know how I healed myself, or when my other powers will develop, if I have any. I wonder if..._

_The test._

_Oh, right. Totally forgot. It was Ralph, definitely. Okay ... was it something I said before it happened? Or maybe I thought something and I didn't realize it before, so –_

_The test!_

_Yes! Test, right! Question two: The symbolism to Simon's part in the story is...? Um ... it's on the tip of my tongue, or thought, or – _

_Oh my God! What is this, happy hour? It's Christ-like! Simon was Christ-like! He cared for the younger boys and tried to explain to Jack and the others that there was no "beastie"! It was the dead parachuter that was scaring everyone, not some monster! Geez, how hard is that to remember?!_

I was stunned, my hand frozen in mid-air from my quiet patter, my eyes wide in shock. I didn't think that. That thought just popped out of nowhere ... it wasn't me. _Someone else is in my head,_ I realized, and instantly I glanced around as if expecting one of the losers surrounding me to be the cause of this state.But then I shook my head, reality finally setting in as my composure regained itself. I returned my impassive eyes to my practically blank final. _I'm being paranoid. The memory just came to me ... in an odd sort of way. It's nothing to go crazy over._

_Right, because going crazy would mean becoming completely irrational and unreasonable, and you're not like that, Remi. You never were, and you never will be. _

I gaped, not caring if I looked like a fool in front of everybody. _Who are you?_

_That's not important right now. You only have ten minutes left of class, and you've hardly passed number one. Get cracking. I'll be here to help, which you so obviously need._

I didn't realize my hand was shaking until I wrote down the answer the voice had told me for number two. When did I become so jumpy at the instant of surprise? _Maybe since I learned I'm not normal anymore ... not that I ever was. _I double-checked that that was my own thought before moving on with the test.

Though it really freaked me out, I couldn't stop the voice from chirping in every now and then with answers I already knew but had slipped my mind. I wasn't really getting used to it, so whenever it piped up, I couldn't resist the flow of fresh shock within me that lasted a millisecond before vanishing like the wind. Who said poetry was dead? With what seemed like a miracle, I was actually on the second to last question when the bell rang, and as the students around me shuffled noisily to their feet, I stayed a few minutes after to finish up. Quickly, I handed it in and just about raced out the door.

_I can't miss the bus again, _I thought, turning the corner with my locker coming into view.

_Right, because it didn't work out so well the last time you did._

I paused for a split-second as the voice spoke before moving even faster. No matter how annoying it got with stating the obvious, it was right. Who knows what could happen? As I worked the combination furiously, I thought, _How do you know what happened yesterday? And you still haven't answered my first question: who are you? And _why _are you inside my head?!_

I thought I heard a soft chuckle before the voice replied. _All will be told in due time. Be patient, and the answers will come to you. _

_Thanks a lot for the clarification, O' Smart One, _I snapped sarcastically, and I slammed my locker shut. The voice didn't reply. _Good riddance. Maybe if it stays gone, I won't go insane like I originally thought. _Making my way down the hall, I left the school by the front doors as usual. And, as the same as yesterday, I saw the tail of my bus turning the corner just before it disappeared; I had missed it, _again! _It was then realization hit me: _Mom wants me home straight away! How am I going to get there in time? Oh man, she's going to kill me! _I looked down at my feet in despair and sighed, only to hear a nearby car blare its horn ... a horn I recognized. Jerking my head up, I felt relief instantly spread throughout me when I saw my mom waving at me through her car window. She had come to pick me up, and perfect timing, too.

* * *

"So how was your day?" my mother asked as we turned out of school property and entered the valley of the street. I shrugged.

"Fine, I suppose," I replied, keeping my face as straight as possible. Of course, the look of sheer terror and mortification on Lexis's face flashed in my mind, and deep in my gut I felt the fiery excitement of my revenge rekindling. It took everything within me to keep from smiling. Mom gave me a suspicious look, and despite my efforts to contain myself, I couldn't help but grin sheepishly. "What?"

"I don't know what to say," she responded, and her voice went unemotional as she stared at me. The distress in her rare eyes was unmistakable, and my heart instantly sank into my stomach. "I thought you were better than that, Remi. _Revenge?_ Just the word upsets me, but to know my own daughter ..." her sentence trailed as I stared at her in befuddlement and a bit of fright.

"Wait ... how do you know that –?"

"Because I'm an empath, remember?" she interrupted, a bit of agitation in her tone. I gulped with the first amount of regret I've felt since what I did. "I feel emotions from other people around me, and the aroma of retaliation was unmistakable on you. I'm very disappointed." It was physically impossible for me to speak, not at a time like this. I had totally forgotten about my mom's ability to sense things, and now with her disapproval at my actions, my day went from not that bad to intensely funny to thinking I'm going insane and finally to wallowing in self-pity ... _again. _

Since my reply was obviously delayed for too long, the car went silent. I kept my eyes off Mom as she drove, unable to make any contact with her after she told me off. _I wonder if she'll punish me, _I thought, and with that in mind I stared out the window, my eyes unfocused. They realigned, however, when I caught sight of a familiar person.

Lexis Macintosh, blond hair whipping about her face and eyes wide and fearful, was speeding on the side-walk ahead of our car. She was riding her bike, the same one as yesterday. It shocked me that I remembered an insignificant detail such as that. I watched her with interest and saw that she turned the corner before we reached her. That's when I realized she was headed to the construction site.

_Follow her. _I jumped a bit in my seat when the voice decided to speak up once more, and then sighed inwardly; this was starting to bug me.

_What would I have to gain by following her? _I snapped inside my own head.

_The respect of your mother, for one thing. _My brow furrowed in confusion, and the voice took this time to explain. _You could talk to Lexis, tell her you're alive, but for goodness sakes don't reveal why because that would just create one more ginormous mess to clean up. _

_Are you crazy? I'm not going to have a chat with my worst nightmare! This isn't tea time! Besides, she'd freak if she saw me, anyway!_

_You have to. _The voice sounded stern, but I defiantly shook my head.

_No. I don't and I won't. Give me a better reason why I should and maybe I'll think about considering it ... tomorrow ... or next week. Either way._

_Ugh ... you are so stubborn! Can't you realize that you actually pity her? _Okay, this statement kind of took me aback a little, and before I knew it, the understanding of how I felt sort of materialized within my own mind. I _did _pity her! I actually felt sad for the one person I've hated almost all my life! How is that even possible?

_It's the good inside you showing you the right thing to do, _said the voice, _Listen to it. _

_What are you, my conscience? _I huffed sarcastically._  
_

_No, for now I'm just your guidance. You know this is what you must do ... to end it, once and for all. Talk to her; I'll be right there with you._ I sighed in resignation.

"Mom, can you pull over?" I asked, breaking the quiet of the car. She gave me a questioning look. "Just ... please?" With a shrug of indifference, my mother dragged the car over to the side of the road and pulled to a stop. Without a word of explanation, seeing as I wouldn't know how to explain it, anyway, I opened the door and left the car. We were a few meters away from the site where the incident happened, and every step I took filled me with strengthening dread. _This is where it happened. I thought I'd never be here again, and now that I am, I can't believe why! _I heard Mom call my name behind me, but I took no notice as I glided through the caution signs for the second time and made my way through the maze of dirt dunes.

It wasn't long before I found her. She was standing in the middle of the clearing where it happened, looking down at a dark stain on the ground. Her knees were visibly quaking, and I understood why. The blood was still there, but the dead body was gone ... like it got up and walked away. It would freak me out, too, if I were in Lexis's position. I was starting to see why I felt bad for her. I took a couple steps forward, the rocky earth crunching beneath my feet. This caught her attention.

Swirling around, I saw Lexis's face contort with fright when she saw me, a look I still appreciated but now with new meaning. "What d-do you want? S-stay away from me," she stuttered, backing up quickly. Too quickly, apparently, for her legs tangled up with each other and she toppled clumsily to the ground. Earlier, I would've let out a laugh or two, but at the moment I didn't find it funny at all. "H-how ... how are you ... how c-can you be ...?" She couldn't finish the words, for to my surprise she actually burst into tears. Here was a girl I despised all throughout my school days, one who has given me black eye after black eye, and now she was in the dirt, cowering below me, crying like a baby. It was wrong ... _so_ wrong.

_Talk to her, _the voice said softly, _tell her that –_

_You know, I think I got it from here, thanks, _I said shortly, cutting it off, and as I took another step forward, I could practically hear the voice huff in annoyance before going silent. Despite what I told it, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. It was like I was on autopilot when I stated loud and clear for all to hear, "Lexis ... I'm not dead."

This, obviously, was a shocker, for the scared girl's face instantly twisted in confusion. "But, I saw ... y-you were ..." She hiccupped. "In the bathroom ... it was you ..."

"It was payback," I admitted, my face deadpan and my eyes giving off no emotion. "I was pretending to be a ghost to scare you and the others ... as revenge for what you did to me yesterday."

"I don't understand," Lexis whispered, wiping her nose on her sleeve and getting to her feet. I guess she didn't want to look weak anymore. "I saw you on the spike ... I _watched _as you screamed and bled to death ... I ... It was me who killed you, and I know it, so how could you have survived?"

I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the dried blood puddle on the ground. I was practically standing where I would've died if I hadn't healed myself, and chills were sent up my spine at the thought. As I raised my eyes, I saw just behind Lexis the thing that caused the pain, the screams, and the tears. The spike, protruding from a large metal crate along with many others, was still covered in crusted, blackening blood ... my blood. My hand self-consciously went to the place where it stabbed through me as I stared back at the blond. "I don't know how, but I do know why I survived. Don't you see, Lexis? That experience had a purpose ... that what you've been doing to me and to others all your life ... and mine ... has a price to pay. You regret beating me up yesterday because of where it lead up to, right?" She nodded, obviously lost for words. "Then you know it might happen again. This spike," I motioned to it with hidden disgust and fear, "is a symbol of what can happen when you really do take it too far, when you destroy others' lives for your own pleasure. I would've died yesterday if I hadn't been saved, no thanks to you."

A tint of venom dripped off my words near the end of my speech, and it had the intended effect. Lexis looked down in what I guessed was shame, but it might have been simple regret. She wasn't mad at me for pulling the prank ... who _would_ be at a time like this? It seems so unimportant now. All she and I both cared about was settling this war right here and now, with the exception of the final battle. After a while, she looked up, and I could see the emotion in her eyes. It was a drastic change to the cold-heartedness I usually saw.

"Are you sure you aren't dead?" she asked almost childishly, and I nearly grinned. It was over; the voice was right to have me finally mend things between us, and I suddenly understood that this should've happened long ago. Well, preferably without the excruciating pain and near-death experience, thank you very much.

"Remi!" I heard my voice being called, and I turned my head to see my mother standing a few yards away from a large mountain of dirt. Her face was emotionless, like mine, but I could read her eyes like a book. She was proud, and that alone made my heart swell. I had earned her respect back.

Turning to Lexis, I saw she was looking at Mom and me in turn, noticing the obvious similarities in our appearances. "Yes, I'm sure," I finally responded, and with those last words, I turned and left, each step full of confidence and relief. When I reached my mother, she turned and walked with me back to the car; I didn't look back to see if Lexis was still there.

Before we got in, Mom caught me off-guard with a sudden hug, her arms wrapped so tight around me I could barely get a breath in. "I'm so proud of you, sweetie," she whispered, and I smiled. She pulled back and looked at me in admiration, a single tear falling from her violet eyes. I smiled with all the love in the world and hugged her back, and after our little mushy gushy scene ended, we loaded up into the blue Sedan and drove off down the street, home in mind.

* * *

**A/N - Okay, I liked this chapter. It was really inspirational in the end, if you ask me, and I almost went all bleary eyed ... and I wrote it! Don't tell me you didn't sniff, wipe a single tear away with your finger, and say, "So beautiful," under your breath. C'mon ... everyone knows you did, so admit it! Tehe, anywho, keep on reviewing and I'll keep on writing. Au revoir!**

**-random-**


	6. Invitation

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. Still. **

* * *

My Life

Chapter Five: _The Invitation_

"So, I'll ask again ... who am I meeting exactly?"

It was a shorter drive from the construction site to home than when I walked yesterday; big surprise there. My mom and I had just pulled up in our driveway, with daylight to spare (oh my God, that rhymed ... freaky). I glanced around, but there were no other cars parked in sight. So ... what, this guy walks everywhere or something? At least give me a motorcycle, people, because _then _I'd be interested.

But no.

"You'll know when you see him, trust me!" Mom responded with a playful grin on her face. Now something was definitely up. She unlocked the door, seeming to take her sweet old time doing so. Maybe just to bug me, maybe to create dramatic effect; who cares? I followed her through the front door into the living room, only to stop in my tracks, my mouth slightly agape. So yeah ... Mom was right ... I _did _recognize who he was just by first glance. And you'll never believe!

There, casually sitting on my sofa was a masked man with long ebony-black hair, a sharp, tan face, and a tough muscular build covered in a tight black and blue outfit. Now, if I didn't recognize him from the newspapers of Jump City, I would've thought, _What, does my mom work with circus freaks? _But this was a special case, for he was the infamous, amazing, surprisingly _real-_looking, totally I-Can't-Believe-He's-Actually-In-My-House-And-Sitting-On-My-Couch...

"Nightwing ..." I breathed, shock overwhelming me for an instant, making me completely forget about playing it cool. That was my original plan. The hero stood from his seat and smiled, holding out his hand for me to shake.

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Remi Roth," he said, and his strong voice snapped me out of my trance. Can you say _embarrassment? _I mean, here I was, standing stock-still with my mouth wide open, looking like the village idiot when there's a frickin' _superhero _standing right in front of me, talking to me, wanting to shake my hand ...

I regained enough composure to place on a blushing grin and hold out my own hand for greeting, which was small and frail compared to his. I looked at my mother and saw she was grinning from ear to ear, giving me a look that said, 'Yay! You like him!' It was weird.

Now, I had to ask, because I don't know what to believe anymore...

"Are you my father?" I said bluntly, my face growing blanker by the second as the astonishment wore away.

He laughed and shook his head, and I didn't know if I should feel relief or disappointment. Sure, a superhero for a mom is incredible, but a dad too? _That _would be awesome, if you don't mind me saying. But no ... still no father in the picture ... and I'm starting to _really _not care anymore.

"No, no, I'm just a close friend of Raven's ... your mother's, I mean." He glanced at Mom for a second and caught her invitation to sit down, so he did. She went to the kitchen and prepared some tea for three while I took a seat in the recliner across from the sofa. For a while we sat in silence, and during this time I collected the fallen pieces of my mind, placing an unemotional composure upon myself like I would at school. Avoiding Nightwing's eyes with fear that he would see right through me, I shot a glance in my mother's direction as she brought the cups of tea in by levitation.

I was a bit confused as to why she was looking so ... unguarded. Her equanimity was completely relaxed, and she seemed more at ease than she did around me! _I guess I didn't realize how close Mom actually is to him, _I thought, taking the cup that was offered to me. I put it to my lips and took a sip.

_Well, obviously close enough to reveal her hidden self to him! _

I jumped up in my seat, the tea I just started to drink dripping down onto my lap. Geez! Why did I have to have a stinking voice in my head that never shut up? Honestly, what did I do to deserve this torture? Sputtering, I hastily wiped my mouth and gasped for a breath of fresh air before realizing I looked like a complete schizophrenic. Looking up, I saw that both my mother and Nightwing were giving me curious stares.

"Are you okay, Remi?" Mom asked, her expression turning to one of concern.

I nodded, not really in the mood to explain. "It's just hot, that's all," I mumbled, looking away. _Why do you have to do that? _I thought with frustration, gently blowing on my cup to make the lie look believable.

_Do what? _the voice asked innocently.

_Make me look like a complete freak?!_

_Please, Remi, that is _far _from my intention. _

I scoffed. _And what might your intention be, hm? Just bugging the crap out of me, is that it? 'Cause you're doing a bang-up job, believe me!_

_Remi –_

_You know ... I think I found a nickname for you, _I thought, my annoyance radar going off the charts, _How about, 'Doctor Smarty Pants', or 'I'm So Smart I'm Better Than You'? But my favorite one is called, 'Shut Up and Leave Me Alone, You Little -!'_

_REMI! Calm down! Your face is turning red!_

The voice was right. As soon as I pulled out of my mind, I felt hot and flustered. I put my hand to my face and touched my cheek with soft fingertips; it was radiating a whole lot of heat, meaning I was either flushing like mad or hanging upside down.

Looking up, I saw Nightwing and my mother were simply watching me, exchanging a couple questioning glances every now and then. I must have been mumbling to myself. Grinning sheepishly, I laughed half-heartedly under my breath before letting the last wisps die upon my lips.

Before they could say anything, I cleared my throat rather audibly and said in a casual tone, "So ... Mom, what did you want to talk to me about? I'm sure this little get-together wasn't just so I could meet ... you know..." I motioned to Nightwing.

The apprehension didn't quite leave her face as my mother shot me a look, telling me she would let it go for now but she wanted to talk to me about it later. Goody. I can't wait. "Well," she started, looking at the man next to her again before turning completely to me, "Nightwing and I both agreed that ... well, what I mean to say is ... how do I put this?" She looked at me as if I knew the answer to her problem, but all I could do was shrug.

That's when Nightwing took over. "Remi, what your mother means to say is that you're old enough to take responsibility for yourself," he said, his face rather serious but his tone sounding friendly. An odd combination.

"What exactly do you mean?" I asked, cautious of what the answer might be. I honestly had no clue where this was going.

Nightwing hesitated, shot a fleeting look at Mom for about the hundredth time, and then continued. "I know what happened to you yesterday, courtesy of Raven, and after a short discussion ... we decided it might be best if you trained with the Titans over the summer."

It was so ... random, so ... out of the blue. Totally unexpected. "And why would I do that?" I asked, not in a mean way but in an extremely inquisitive manner.

"Well, for one thing you can defend yourself against bullies such as this Lexis girl."

I fiddled with the cup of tea in my hands, moving my gaze to the floor. Yes, that was a good excuse. "Um... Well, about that..."

"You would also become more ... in depth with the powers you've started to develop," Nightwing interrupted. "I'm sure Raven would gladly guide you through your progress while I and the other Titans help train you in self-defense skills and other techniques."

Mom nodded in agreement, and for a moment I was lost in thought, contemplating on my options here. If I accept, I would get to meet with all the Titans, learn how to control my powers, and show everyone at school what could happen if they mess with me again! Sounds pretty kick-ass to me. On the other hand, if I refuse, I would live the rest of my high school days with ketchup stains on my shirt and paper planes making contact with my forehead. The latter didn't sound too appealing...

_You know you have to say yes, right? _The voice chimed in. For once, it didn't startle me; I must be getting used to it.

_Well ... I don't ... _have _to..._

_Oh please, spare me the hassle of having to explain what you already know. Just say – _

"Okay," I stated, loud and clear for all to hear. "I'll do it."

Mom looked visibly relieved, her shoulders relaxing as she let out a silent sigh. Nightwing grinned, obviously pleased with this turn-out of events. I did nothing, though a spark of excitement was starting to ignite deep within my stomach. I was going to be trained by the Titans! What in the world could be cooler than that?

_A Chihuahua? _the voice suggested, and I could've swore I heard it chuckle. Ignoring it, I asked, "Where are the training sessions going to take place?"

"Well, actually ... we were hoping you would move into the Tower," Mom answered, beating Nightwing to the punch. She looked hopeful as she added, "We already have a room made for you and everything."

My eyes widened in fresh shock. "The ... Tower? As in, the Titan's Tower on the island of Jump City Bay?" I couldn't believe my ears.

Both Titans nodded. "It would make things a whole lot easier," Nightwing explained, but I was already sold. It was amazing how a crappy end of the school year could turn into an incredible start to the summer. I was beginning to get impatient for the party to start.

Nightwing took my silence as acceptance and got to his feet. I watched as he nodded wordlessly to my mother, who returned the favor, and then walked towards the front door. Opening it, he turned to look back at me, and I was confused to see a strange expression on his face ... one of promise. And even though he wore a mask over his eyes, I could practically see them shining with anticipation. Apparently, I wasn't the only eager one around.

"Remi?" Mom called to me. I pulled my gaze away from the hero and noticed she had walked over to the kitchen area. In my trance-like state, I hadn't realized that she levitated my cup of tea from my grasp. It was now being washed in the sink. "You should probably start packing. You'll be leaving for the Tower after school tomorrow, seeing as it's your last day."

I mumbled agreement before turning around again, but Nightwing had vanished, leaving the door wide open. My mother obviously observed this as well, for she gave a short, aggravated laugh that caught my attention. "The least he could do was close the door behind him, the rude little ..." The rest of that sentence was lost in mumbles, but it made me grin all the same. I shut the door on the way to my room, where I would probably spend the next hour packing my bags for the vacation of a lifetime.

Well, supposively.

* * *

The last day of school was just like any other day. I got tripped, bumped, teased, and mentally beaten to a pulp ... the usual. Someone even had the caring heart to give me a present; a warm water balloon right in the face. Delicious.

I'll never know when I became the school loser, but today I didn't care. I was actually so excited about moving into the Tower that I didn't even concern myself with the chirping voice inside my head. I felt ... good. Happy. It was a nice change.

Just as the last bell of the school-year rang, I shut my locker one final time and glided my way through the halls. A small smile made its way to my lips, breaking my normal frontage. This was the closest I've ever gone to revealing my emotions in a public place, and when people noticed this, they got really confused, even scared. I liked it.

I actually made the bus in time, but instead of hopping on I skipped over it and went to where my mother picked me up yesterday. A familiar blue Sedan was waiting for me, with a familiar violet-haired woman in the driver's seat. My grin grew.

"Hey," Mom greeted as I got into the passenger's seat. She pulled out of Sun Valley's front lot and started to take the regular route home. "You look exceptionally bright today."

"So? Can't a girl be happy?"

"Remi? Happy? Is that even possible?" I could tell from her tone that she was joking with me, so I laughed.

Before I knew it, we had rolled up in front of my house. But instead of the empty driveway I was expecting to see, there was a second car there. It was larger than the Sedan, and a brighter, more vibrant color of blue. Iron plates covered the outer wheels, and white and gray streaks lashed at the sides, to add the effect of speed. It looked ... bionic somehow. Robotic.

Mom pulled up against the curb, making sure her tail-end wasn't blocking the driveway. "I see you're means of transportation is the T-car," she mumbled, cutting the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt. I followed suit, swinging the strap of my bag over my shoulder before I got out. "It's Cyborg's greatest invention ... well, _he _says, anyway..."

"Cyborg?" I asked, but then I remembered. He wasn't as infamous as Nightwing, but whenever there was a story about the Titans and their heroic acts of justice, his name was in the paper. Along with Raven's ... my mother's...

Frankly, I'm quite surprised I never made the connection. Pursuing Mom to the front door, I slid inside after her and closed up the house behind me. Nightwing was already there, standing behind the couch; he was in the same masked uniform as yesterday. In front of him, on the sofa, were the bags I had packed last night.

"YO!" A loud, booming voice suddenly made me jump, and I whipped my head around so hard I felt my neck crack.

In the kitchen, scarfing down a leftover plate of chicken, was a tall, very brawny man with dark skin and a bald head. But that wasn't what caught my full attention. His entire body, along with half of his head, was made of _machine_. I could visibly see it with my own eyes, and yet it was still hard to believe. _What happened to him?_ I thought.

"Raven, how've you been, girl?" the man asked, finishing off his last bite. "I haven't seen you in almost two weeks!"

Mom rolled her eyes and took the empty platter off of the counter, giving the man a cold stare. "I'd be grateful if you were more polite when meeting my daughter, Cyborg," she stated, pointedly ignoring his question. After setting the dish in the sink, she turned to me and said, "Remi, this is Cyborg. He's another of the original Teen Titans, like Nightwing and me. Though, he isn't the most etiquette." That last comment was shot directly at Cyborg, who flinched and backed away slowly.

"Hey, can you blame a guy for being himself?" he said, now walking towards me. I could feel the floorboards beneath the carpet thud with his massive weight, and I gulped. He held out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, little lady."

Reluctantly, I placed my hand in his palm and gave it a soft shake before quickly sliding out of his grip. His hands were twice my size, and that glowing, mechanized red eye on his left side was staring a hole in me like a laser. I was getting the chills.

If Cyborg noticed my reaction to his appearance, he didn't show any signs of it. Instead, he trampled over to the couch like an elephant and picked up all my bags in one arm. _Wow, _I thought, inwardly impressed with his strength, _That must be about twice my weight carried in just one arm! I've never seen that before._

_You'll probably be seeing a whole lot more once we get to the Tower. _That darn voice. Maybe if I shove a spoon up my nose, I can scoop it out of me.

_We? _I replied, stepping to the side to let Cyborg pass me. _Oh no, Smarty Pants! Fat chance! You aren't coming with, you hear? You're gonna stay right here and wait all summer for me to come back. Of course, by then, you'd have hopefully gotten bored and run off to annoy some other kid. _

_Ah, if only life were that easy, Remi, _the voice sighed,_ But you'll have to face the facts sooner or later. I'm going to be inside your head for the rest of your life._

I groaned, but immediately put my hand over my mouth. This voice is going to be with me my entire _life? _How on Earth am I going to live with this nightmare?

_Remi, it's not as bad as you think. In time, you and I will actually become friends. _

_Yeah right. I don't have any friends, least of all you. Now, get outta my head!_

Thankfully, there was no response, and with a nod of certainty I turned and walked out the door. My mother followed me, closing and locking the door behind her. "What about Nightwing?" I asked, confused. "Isn't he still inside?"

Mom gave me a puzzled look. "What do you mean? Nightwing's in the car already. He and Cyborg are waiting on us." Huh. I guess I don't focus on my surroundings when I'm talking to Smarty Butt up in my mind. Nightwing must've walked right by me without my noticing! _I'll have to work on that. _

My mother walked past me towards the T-car, and I made my way after her. Just as I opened the rear door, the wind picked up, blowing my short, dark hair over my eyes. I brushed it away with one finger and found I was glancing across the street, to an empty bench. Alone and isolated, with nobody around, I realized that for once it didn't look as threatening to me as it did all those days before. _My world is about to change ... forever._

* * *

**A/N – Oh ... my ... GOD! I am completely frustrated with , because for three whole months and more, their system was completely screwed up for my computer. I wasn't able to log into my account, and if I couldn't do that, than I couldn't update my story. The only reason I could post this chapter was because I finally got what everyone dreams of:**

**A laptop.**

**So my sincere apologies for the incredulously long delay, but really, it wasn't my fault. Blame the system, not the ... user ... or whatever. **

**Gotta go! Chapters to write, puppies to save, chocolate to eat ... so much to do, so little people to do it for me.**

**- random -**


	7. Greetings

My Life

Chapter Seven: _Greetings_

My house is over seven miles away from the island holding host to Titans Tower, and yet, possibly by sheer magic, we arrived at the Pier in less than ten minutes. Cyborg's car is _fast, _especially when he's behind the wheel. Or, so my mother told me as I gripped the bottom of my seat with white knuckles. The half-robot jerked the car to a sharp left and a shrieking stop.

I found myself staring with wide eyes across the water of the bay, the shape of a large "T" visible in the not-too-far distance. I felt unable to hide my awe at seeing what I've been thinking about for the last twenty-four hours come true at last.

Cyborg flipped a switch instinctively with a metal finger, and the T-car abruptly boosted higher up in the air, as if it jumped. Peeking out my window, I noticed I couldn't see the tires anymore. Instead, a quiet _whoosh_ing sound bubbled through the air, like the sound of a howling wind muffled by the thin glass of a window pane.

"It's the hover system that Cyborg installed," Mom explained, and I turned to see her watching my curious expression. Her hair was just the same as always: very short and very violet. But there was something more in her eyes today, possibly a sense of expectance. Hope, maybe?

"Well, that's nifty," I muttered in an almost aloof tone, trying not to reveal how interested I really was in this new world I was entering. It was getting hard to believe that just four days ago I was the loser at school, nothing special and yet far from normal. Now what was I facing? A summer filled with Titan training.

How could time flip an entire universe upside-down?

I watched silently while Cyborg coaxed the T-car across the bay, slightly slower than how he drove on the road. My eyes kept bouncing back and forth from the water shifting beneath us to the Tower waiting ahead. The closer we got, the bigger it seemed to be. I never imagined it to be so tall, for I had never actually seen it up close and personal. I could only look at pictures of it in the newspaper.

When the outline of the Tower had passed the frame of the windshield, I started to get anxious, maybe even a little impatient. What would the inside be like? And the other Titans?

Just then, an even bigger question popped in my head, one that made all the others look like tiny fish in the big ocean: would they like me?

How could I be accepted into their home when they never met me before? What would they expect from me in return for their hospitality? Surely they wouldn't give this fantastic offer up for free. They probably think I have this one-of-a-kind ability, so special and so powerful that they couldn't refuse the fact that I would be an excellent asset to their team.

Okay, wait. I was getting _way _ahead of myself. Who said I was ever going to join their team? I was just there for training, for self-defense.

"Here we are!" Cyborg stated, breaking the strange silence that had unintentionally encased the car. His booming voice made me jump slightly, but I tried to cover it up by reaching for the bags. Before I could get to them, though, Cyborg had reached back and picked them up with one hand. He smiled at me, his white teeth brilliant against the dark russet color of his skin. "I got them. You go on ahead with Nightwing and Raven."

The corner of my mouth twitched in response before I gave him a curt nod. I wasn't used to being taken care of this way, and I certainly didn't know how to respond to polite gestures such as that. I only ever got them from my mother.

Cyborg laughed suddenly, the sound filling my ears. "You look so much like Raven, it's hilarious! You're like ... her little clone!" Okay, so much for propriety. Without replying, I thrust myself out the door and into the open air.

The T-car was no longer levitating, though I didn't detect when we had touched ground again. And now that I was standing up, my head bent back so far it was uncomfortable, I could really see how soaring the Tower was. I took a deep breath; the air was salty, moist with the essence of seawater.

"Come on, Remi! The inside is much better than out here, believe me." My mother's excited voice caught my attention, and I quickly jogged to catch up with her. The double doors, taller and wider than necessary, started to open automatically when Nightwing placed his hand on a touch screen off to the side. It beeped once, and the next thing I knew, I was staring into a vast hallway.

It was bordered by soft, red armchairs and layered with a lush maroon rug. As soon as I took a step inside, I felt like I was on a runway in a fashion model show. But it only seemed that way due to the surrounding atmosphere; I, in no way, felt like a model.

It didn't take as long as I would've thought to reach the other end of the room. My mother's pace matched mine as I walked by her side, elegant and swift. Nightwing walked at a brisk, confident speed on the other side of me, his head held straight as he looked forward; the look of a leader. Cyborg trailed behind us, carrying my luggage like a mule. I felt a tad bit ashamed that he would do all this work for me, a girl he barely knew, but he appeared not to mind. He was stronger than the normal man, after all.

We entered a wide elevator that easily took all of us in with room to spare. As the doors shut behind us and my mother pressed the top floor button, I had another feeling of recognition. It was kind of like a hotel, with the suitcases and the elevators, the plush floors and admiring decorations. But, unlike the last sense, I really _did _see myself as that person, checking into an inn for a limited amount of time. It wasn't as if I was here to stay after the summer. This trip was probably only a one-time thing for my benefit. But what if...

There I go again, getting ahead of myself. I need to get my priorities straight if I don't want to look like a complete idiot. I already got that enough during the school year.

"You're quiet, Remi," Nightwing commented from behind me. I shrugged at the calm serenity in his tone. "I was expecting a handful of questions about what life was like here in the Tower, but you seem to show no interest at all."

I heard a low thudding sound and saw, by reflection of the shiny silver doors, my mother nudge him with her elbow, almost playfully. I sighed. "You obviously don't know me that well if you made that assumption."

"No, I guess not."

As the silence returned, only a little bit more awkward than before, I watched the numbers change on the screen above me, increasing from one, to two, to three...

Suddenly, the doors glided open with smooth grace, and it took me a moment to realize I didn't feel the elevator stop. I must be losing my attentive edge in all this complex excitement. That must be the only explanation, because I never felt so slow before in my life.

I led the way into a room even bigger than the hall downstairs, and it was like different household backgrounds combined into one. There was a cozy kitchen area, with an island counter topped with blue and white marble and a short fridge tucked into the side. On the farther side of the room sat a long, oak-wood dining table, polished to a shine and surrounded by plenty of matching chairs. I suddenly felt the urge to sit down and examine the beautiful artwork, but I reminded myself that I was not alone. Plus, there was more to this room than the table.

The sound of screeching brakes and a menacing crash made me turn sharply, my eyes scanning for the source. But all I found was a large, flat screen television hooked up to the wall, flanked by spotless windows that revealed the marvelous view of the bay. I told myself that I could worship the sight later, during the sunset.

The racket repeated, and it didn't take a genius to realize it was coming from the video game displayed on the screen. But who was playing it?

A deep red sofa, curved like a crescent moon around a black coffee table, sat before the TV. And sitting on the edge of their seats were three adolescent boys, game controllers in hand.

I froze.

They were teenagers. Just like the bullies at school. Just like the two morons at the bus stop that pushed me into the mud puddle the morning of that wretched day. I thought I was escaping that world, joining the realm of true adulthood and maturity. I thought my worries were over, and I didn't need to feel this kind of emotional turmoil until the beginning of school next year, after the summer. But how was I wrong? I never expected some of the Titans to still be teens, and where there are teenagers, there's trouble for me. I'm like a bully magnet, the attraction for everyone who ever thought of the word "loser" and wanted to put it into action.

Should I turn back now, make a run for it, and hope they don't follow? Maybe I could convince my mom that I was high yesterday, and I didn't mean it when I agreed with her and Nightwing on their proposition. But if I somehow made the crazy decision to stay, what would my life become? A different version of Satan's Lair?

"Yes! That's what I'm talkin' about!" one of them said after a green car shoved a blue car off the tracks, speeding forward.

"Hey, man! What'd you do that for?" another asked, his voice aggressive. This particular voice suddenly brought back many bad, suppressed memories of bullies using that tone with me, only with more disgust rather than hostility.

Just then, an orange car zoomed up out of nowhere and slammed the green car aside, boosting up to the finish line and causing confetti to shower over the screen. Player One had won the race.

"I'd be happy to give out autographs after the award ceremony," a calmer, more confident voice announced, different than the others. It was almost musical, in a smug sort of way. One boy tossed his controller aside angrily, but the other two were laughing.

"Remi, are you okay?" I heard my mother's voice, and she broke me away from my trance. I turned to see her staring at me with apprehension bubbling in her eyes. How much paler had I gone in the last few seconds?

The boys, realizing that they were no longer alone in the room, all got to their feet and turned around in unison. Suddenly, all eyes were on me. I regained my composure with ease, years of practice growing useful, and shot Mom a flicker of a falsely reassuring smile. She didn't buy it, but she didn't dig deeper into it either. Instead, she looked over to the couch, and I hesitantly followed her gaze.

"Remi," Nightwing said, going to stand by the three who had turned their questioning eyes on me. "I'd like you to meet the other Titans in training."

The first boy, the left in the line, actually looked friendly enough to make my racing heartbeat slow. His skin was a light coffee brown, lighter than Cyborg's tone but still dark enough to know he wasn't Caucasian. His dark hair was braided tight against his scalp, the roundness of his forehead reflecting the light into my eyes like a mirror. He was grinning at me, a natural smile that I would expect from a close relative. And the only relative I have is my mom, so this took me off my guard a little bit.

The one to the right, however, was the complete opposite. A scowl crossed his face as he watched me, his cold gray eyes scanning my body like he expected a monster to suddenly explode from my stomach and attack. He was taller than the first, though all of them passed my height by more than three inches. His skin was a pasty pale, still nowhere _near _my shade. Freckles spotted his arms and nose, so light I almost didn't notice, and his short, flowing hair took on a dirty blond color. Bangs fell over his eyes like daggers. I met his gaze fleetingly, and he quickly jerked his head away, as if offended.

But the one who caught my eye the most was the boy in the middle, standing even higher than the others. His messy black hair, dark as the night sky, appeared to stick up in the front as if caught by the wind. His skin was a sharp peach, tan in the face and on the arms, which were surprisingly lean with strong muscles. But I found that I was drawn to his face, his eyes in particular; they were an unusual shade of red, almost as deep as blood, and yet somehow they seemed tinted with gold. It might sound strange, but they were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. He was observing my expression, calculating my reaction to meeting so many new people in such a short amount of time.

Then, suddenly, he broke into a crooked grin. I forgot how to breathe.

Before anything else could happen, the darker boy had grabbed the back of the red couch and swung himself over it with pulsing energy. He approached me, a keen look in his dark brown eyes, and held out his hand. "Hey there," he said, his voice not quite deep and yet still a low rumble, in a way. "The name's Darien Stone. Welcome to the Titans!"

He seemed okay enough, though I could never be sure when he'd whip out a bottle of ketchup and squirt me in the face. _Why would he do that with my mom standing right next to me? You're overreacting, Remi. Relax. _I couldn't tell from the jumbled point of views which voice was mine and which was the annoying pest that rested inside the back of my brain, but I decided to go with the flow for now.

My face impassive, almost hard, I reached up and shook his hand. But as soon as our flesh touched, a spark shot through my palm and I flinched away, surprised. My hand was tingling as if I had just touched a live wire. What was _that?_

He laughed. "Sorry about that. I can't really turn it off whenever I want to, you know?"

No, I didn't know. What in the world was he talking about?

I didn't realize that the other two boys had walked up as well until they were suddenly right in front of me, each flanking one of Darien's sides. The dirty blond was still glaring, his eyes criticizing; but the black-haired boy seemed serene by my presence. Even though the majority of them didn't appear to be harmful to me, I still felt like I was being cornered or pressured into something I didn't like.

The boy with the red eyes was the second to hold out his hand, but this time I was reluctant to shake it.

"My name's Gregory Grayson," he said, his voice sounding almost like smooth jazz music. "But you can call me Greg. Everyone else does, anyway."

His hand was suspended in the air, empty due to my hesitation, just long enough for it to become awkward. I noticed his eyes tighten in disappointment and misunderstanding when he slowly lowered it back to his side. I instantly regretted not taking the offer; he seemed a little affronted that I would just ignore him like that, but I didn't know if it would have the same reaction as it had with Darien.

A loud, frustrated sigh broke the silence. My eyes turned to see the freckled boy tapping his foot, looking ultimately impatient about something.

"Why are we wasting time with this insignificance?" His voice, a rather natural sound compared to Greg and Darien's, echoed the critical boredom that was written across his face. Judging by his attitude, I made the assumption that he had come last in the game, the blue car. And now he was taking it out on me. Typical.

"Oh, buck up, Syrus!" Greg snapped, narrowing his eyes in the boy's direction. "It isn't every day we get a new member."

"Yeah," Darien agreed, nudging him in the shoulder with a closed fist. "Besides, what's not to like?"

Syrus sighed angrily and walked away, a seething feeling in every step he took. Darien snickered under his breath and followed him into the kitchen.

"I apologize for the sore-loser over there," Greg said, his voice grabbing my attention. I snapped my gaze on him, noticing his eyes were smoldering into mine. "Syrus Ivitork can sometimes be a handful. You get used to it, after a while." He grinned again, but it was different this time. It didn't touch his eyes.

I felt pressure on my shoulder and heard my mother's voice. "Let's go check out your room, okay, Remi? It isn't far..." I nodded and quickly turned on my heel, feeling a set of eyes following my every move as I walked through a different door and entered another hallway.

As soon as we were out of earshot of the others, my mother went staid. "What's wrong, honey? Where'd that thrilling excitement go? You completely flipped moods when we were in the main room."

I sighed, unable to hide the truth from an empath. "It's just ... you didn't tell me there were going to be others here that were ... you know ... _my _age. I thought I was evading that world." My eyes scrutinized my walking feet as I spoke.

"You mean the world of harassment?" She confirmed, not really having the need to do so. "I promise you, Remi, that they aren't like that."

"That doesn't matter!" I stated a bit too loudly. I stopped, and so did she. I was facing her now, a tad bit furious. "You didn't tell me that I was going to have company in my training, let alone juvenile _boys! _You know my history! You said I was going to learn to defend myself against them, not –"

"Remi, stop! Please listen to me!" She had placed her hands on my shaking shoulders, trying to calm me. Her face and her voice were both dead serious. "Greg and Darien and Syrus aren't like those kids in school. They were raised by the Titans, taught to behave like gentlemen rather than the fiends you imagine them to be. They would never hurt you intentionally, because as of now you are their comrade."

"Right," I muttered, skepticism dripping from my voice. But even as I said it, I remembered how nice Greg and Darien were, how much it surprised me. I also remembered the way Syrus reacted to me. "You're saying that Syrus is a gentleman? Seriously?"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Remi. I taught you better than that. There's more to Syrus than meets the eye, more to all of them than you give them credit for. There may be times where you'll have to depend on them with your life. That's what a team is."

"I'm not part of any team! I'm just here to learn, to develop my powers. That's all that you promised me, but instead I enter a place where my nightmares could just as well reawaken?"

My mother sighed at my stubbornness, briefly looking away from my gaze at the wall behind me. I could tell she was trying to come up with fresh ways of convincing me to be more open-minded. The way she was describing them, the boys, it was almost as if she saw us becoming friends. _I don't have any friends, _I reminded myself. _Nobody wants to be friends with a loser, a freak. _I could feel my face go cold.

_Your mother's right, Remi. _

Ugh! What perfect timing! I closed my eyes and sighed with irritation, pressing my fingertips to my temple. I didn't care what I might've looked like to my mom.

_I don't need your advice, too! It's just as worthless! I shouldn't have come to the Tower, shouldn't have agreed to anything Nightwing told me! I was being greedy, and that made me blind to everything that could still possibly go wrong!_

_You weren't being greedy. You were offered an opportunity of a lifetime, and you took it. It was a smart decision._

My teeth gritted together to stop from shouting out loud. _And, of course, you know _all _about being smart, now don't you?_ _If you knew about this before I did, than why didn't you warn me?_

_I can't see into the future, Remi. I didn't know this was the situation until you did yourself. It's the way we're connected. But sometimes, like right now, I can see parts of your mind that you're oblivious to, parts that you're blinded from by your thick pigheadedness. And you're mother is right. So stop being such a drama queen!_

That last comment hit a nerve, but I slowly began to realize that the voice was actually making some sense. I _was _overreacting, blasting things way out of proportion. I needed to get a grip.

_You're just nervous, and that's completely normal, for anybody. Take a couple deep breaths and start seeing things from a more mature point of view._

Surprisingly enough, I obeyed the voice's commands and inhaled slowly, feeling the cool air fill my lungs and refresh my mind. It was no big deal. I don't need to freak out. I just have to adjust to the idea of working with others, to the idea that I won't be alone this summer.

My original plans went flying out the window, waving to me as they passed by. I imagined reaching out to them, stretching my fingers and willing myself to grab at least one. But they were already gone, and my hopes fell to the floor.

Now that my mind was unlocked, the suggestion of friends, of teammates, didn't seem half-bad. I was just scared out of my pants to try and pull it off, and now I know exactly what I'm afraid of: betrayal and rejection.

Exhaling slowly, all frustration gone from my face, I lowered my hands and opened my eyes. Mom was staring at me with deep concern etched into every pale curve on her face. She almost looked like a statue, she was so still; the only thing that moved was her eyes, bouncing back and forth between the depths of my own, trying to decipher the decision I had made before I got a chance to tell her.

"Okay," I mumbled, though the words still rang loud and clear. "I'll give them a chance. But don't expect anything to come out of it – I'm not _that _hopeful." A small smirk broke passed my locked lips, and though my mother was still wary over the procession she just witnessed, her face relaxed into a smile as well. She pulled me into another one of her proud hugs before leading me down the hallway again, my pace matching every step she took with perfection.


	8. A Night Gone Wild

My Life

Chapter Eight: _A Night Gone Wild_

My bedroom was seriously the most incredible room I've ever seen.

Dark walls were adorned with beautiful line paintings of silver roses, their patterns so intriguing I couldn't stop scrutinizing them. The big bay window was opposite the door, lavender silk curtains pulled back to one side and tied with some kind of fancy rope. The indent in the wall was deep enough to sit on, maybe even lay on. There was a small dip accenting the area, one designed so you had to take one step down to get to the center. It was slightly circular, my room; or, maybe more of an oval shape.

And smack dab in the middle of the dip was a round, two-mattress bed that looked so tempting I almost lunged at it. The soft bedspread was pulled over in one corner, the color of it matching my eyes exactly. There, by the foot of the bed, were my bags. Cyborg must've come straight here when we got home and dropped them off for me.

In a slight bit of a daze, still stunned by the astonishing appearance of my bedroom, I slowly began to unpack my things and load them into the tall, wooden wardrobe not unlike the one I owned back home. Except this one was stark black, and the doors folded open neatly instead of creaking like an old man's knees. A full-length mirror hung from the wall a few feet to the right, and I carefully avoided my own gaze whenever I walked past it. I didn't want to end up staring into my eyes, trying to read my own thoughts; I already had an annoying voice doing that job for me.

"Remi?"

Jumping out of my skin, I spun around expecting my mother to be right behind me. But I was still alone. _So, now I'm hearing voices of real people? _I thought. Clearly, I was going insane.

I turned back to the bed.

"Remi, are you there?" Mom asked, and again I found myself searching around for her. I sighed inwardly with relief when I realized what the source of her voice had to be; a small platinum square was implanted in the wall next to my door, the grates of a speaker obvious next to the many buttons.

It was an intercom system. Why didn't I see it before?

The tiny red light above the button labeled "Main Room" was aglow. Simultaneously, I pressed the switch and spoke very clearly into the speaker, "Yes, Mom? What's going on?"

"Dinner's ready."

"Great. Can I come down in maybe half an hour? I still have some unpacking to do."

"Actually, could you save it for later?" She spoke slowly, as if trying to find the right words to explain something, and I was instantly on the alert.

"Why?"

"It's just … Starfire made a big meal for everyone when she learned you were here. Sort of a welcoming gift. And it would mean a lot to her if you came and ate with us at the table. Now, I know you aren't accustomed to sit-down suppers, but I was hoping that –"

"Wait, back up," I interjected, confused. This was a name I didn't recognize. "Who's Starfire?"

"Gregory's mother," Mom explained, "She was on the original Teen Titans team like myself. Another of the first generation. Come and meet her, Remi, please. She's …" I could've swore I heard my mother sigh, and when she continued, her voice was less animated. "… She's practically dying to meet you. Well, _flying _would be the more appropriate term."

"Huh?"

"You'll understand when you see her. Now come down." Those last three words were insistent, and I knew I wouldn't be able to squeeze my way out of this one.

It was my turn to sigh. "Okay, fine. I'll be right down, if that makes you happy. Just … don't expect much." I left it at that and lifted my finger from the button, watching as the light faded back to a clouded clear. Taking a deep breath, I departed my room and started down the hall.

But I had gone no more than five steps before I heard another person say my name.

"Hey, Remi! Hold up!" I did a casual stop-turn-stare performance and found myself face to face with Greg, the dark-haired wonder. His beautiful red eyes caught me in a trance, and I momentarily forgot to guard my face. But I forced my gaze away, noticing how Greg chuckled at my seemingly shy reaction. When he was at my side, I didn't hesitate to start walking again, my pace more brisk than it was before.

"So, we didn't have much time for introductions back there. I only got my name in." He smiled, waiting for a reply. I didn't give him one. "I mean," he added, a bit more awkwardly, "You didn't seem like you were in the mood to talk, so I thought I'd catch you before dinner. And here I am."

We rounded the corner, and for a long moment I was silent. Why was he talking to me? I never thought it possible to have a full conversation with somebody my own age without words of threats and violence, and yet here was a boy who I barely knew, eager to discover what I had to say. Which was a whole lot, believe me, but I didn't know how to take it. Or how to handle it.

So, to ease the tension, I said the only word that came to mind.

"Okay."

Yes, okay. Because it was okay for me to sound like a complete idiot, a moron. I waited for the critical sarcasm, the scoffing and the walking off in another direction. But Greg didn't do either. Instead, he smirked as if he accomplished a great feat, and continued the conversation.

"So, Darien and Syrus and I were going down to the beach tonight, after dinner. It's what we normally do on days like this, with the nice weather and all." He lost me at beach. What exactly was he talking about? "And I was thinking you could tag along. You know, get to know us other Titans and stuff."

We were at the door to the main room already, and both of us stopped in unison. I kept my eyes carefully away from his face as I thought about what he was offering me. A chance to get to know the other Titans in training … should I pass that up for a quiet night in my room, alone and completely bored? It depended on what would happen at the beach, whether this was some cruel prank or not.

_Oh, don't be a wuss, _the voice jeered. _Greg seems nice enough. He wouldn't let anything happen to you._

"And you know this … how?" I snapped, the sound of my own voice making me jump. That wasn't in my mind; I had spoken out loud. Flashing a chagrin-filled glance at Greg, I saw he had tilted his head, bemused by my sudden uncomprehending words.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone soft and musical like the first time I heard him speak.

I couldn't answer; I was too mortified to even utter an apology for my strange behavior. He would think me insane. He would raise one eyebrow in question and slowly back away, treating me like the weirdo I was. But he didn't move; that same confused expression clouded his eyes, his face.

_Don't worry, Remi. Everything will be fine. _Curse this voice and its aggravating attempts of reassurance. _Go to the beach, and have fun. It isn't every day that you get to have fun with friends, now is it?_

I shook my head quickly. Too quickly, for I heard a small _pop _and a tiny spark of pain spread down my spine. I shivered.

"That's okay, you don't have to come," Greg said, the disappointment clear in his words. He had taken my shake of the head as a no to his invitation. He thought I denied him. _I didn't even decide yet!_ He gave a small smile before taking a step around me, toward the door.

I acted on impulse, unnerved that he had gotten the wrong idea from my actions.

"No, wait!" I said, my words rushed. I stepped between him and the door again, and he looked down at me. I had to crane my head up to look him in the eye. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just … well, I can't explain it. I didn't mean to offend you or anything. Whatever. I just…" I took a deep breath, out of things to say, ways to explain. The light in Greg's golden-maroon eyes brightened with amusement, and he stifled a chuckle.

"I meant to say … yeah, I'll be there," I finished, looking down at my feet and trying to hide the embarrassment that lit my face on fire. I wasn't used to blushing, and the faint colors of rosy pink were sure to be obvious against my ashen skin.

_I think a monkey with half a brain could've gone smoother than that, _the voice snickered, turning from helpful to criticizing in less than a minute. If it had a face, I'd punch it.

Greg couldn't help it any longer. He let out a laugh, a mixture of music and songbird. It was a lovely sound, clear and pleasant. I wanted to hear it again, and again. But he had to breathe sometime.

"Well … okay then!" he said, his lips breaking into that perfect crooked smile. Like before, I forgot how to breathe, only this time something else happened as well: my heart stuttered, fluttering like a moth with one wing. Was this kid a hazard to my health, or what? "I'll see you there after dinner. Which we should probably get to as soon as possible … I don't know how much longer my mom can hold out."

I didn't reply, only turned around and walked through the automatic doors. I didn't really know what just happened, only that it ended with my consent to something … a night down at the beach with the guys. The guys I barely knew. The guys I'm afraid of.

But I wasn't afraid of Greg anymore. The voice was right – again. He didn't seem the type who would pull a prank on a girl like me; he thought I was shy, fearful, the type of girl who would have nightmares after watching the Adams Family.

_I like that show. It's old, and most of the actors are dead, but it's still funny._

_Of course you would like it, _I growled. _It's filled with cynical humor and witty satire. Let me guess … you're favorite character is Wednesday? _

_If it is, than she's your favorite, too, Remi._

_What? _That didn't make any sense. Why would … oh, wait. The voice said we were linked, in more ways than one. Could this be part of what it meant?

_Ah, you're catching on, _it said approvingly. _I knew you would get it eventually. _

_Get _what_?!_ _I have no idea why you're in my head or how you can be so _annoying_!!_

_Oh, gee, that almost hurt my feelings._

_You'll get over it. _

_Well, _the voice sighed, _I'd love to chat some more, my friend, but I believe you have a dinner to attend._

And, just like that, my eyes refocused and I found myself in the middle of the main room, walking very slowly towards the long, beautifully carved wooden table. It took me less than a moment to blank my face, as if I were at school again, and I went over more quickly to sit next to my mom. But before I got there, a hard, vice-like grip encased around my chest, squeezing the life out of me. I gasped.

"It is wonderful to finally meet you, daughter of Raven!" a high, bell-ringing voice sounded behind me. I struggled against the grip, realizing in horror that a complete stranger was giving me a hug. And in spite of the blissful voice, I took a wild guess that they had to be very muscular, like Cyborg. It was just an assumption, considering how freaking strong this grip was!

"Um, Starfire? Perhaps you should let her breathe. Her face is turning blue." Was that Mom's voice? I couldn't tell anymore. I was growing dizzy from the lack of air; the world was starting to spin.

"Oh," the melodic voice said in realization, releasing me at once. I inhaled deeply, the air rushing to my lungs so fast I almost fell over with the haste of it. Clutching my chest, sure that there would be bruises in the morning, I took several stumbling steps forward before I caught my balance.

"Oh, I apologize, dear Remi! I did not mean to impair you!" I turned my head weakly, and was surprised by what I saw.

It was a woman, as I suspected, but not the big brawny type I pictured in my mind while I suffocated. In fact, she was very slender, the muscles only the teensiest bit visible in her hourglass frame. She was tall, yes – taller than Nightwing, even, but not as tall as Cyborg. And she was _beautiful. _Like, supermodel perfect, the type of woman who posed on the cover of fashion magazines. Stunning emerald eyes, a flawless heart-shaped face, and long luscious waves of vibrant red-orange hair.

But throughout all these perfections, I still spotted traits that didn't make sense. Like her eyebrows, for instance; they were too short, mere dots above her eyes, close together at the forehead. And her skin; it wasn't a normal shade of peach, but more of a yellow-tinted tan, almost goldenrod. Did she have some kind of skin disease?

The woman waited until she was sure I functioned properly again, then smiled the brightest smile I've ever seen. "Please forgive me, Remi. I often forget my strength when I feel excitement or joy. I truly did not mean you harm." She pleaded at me with her eyes, though her smile never faltered. I couldn't help but believe her; faintly feeling it, my head bobbed up and down in a slow nod.

Somehow, though seemingly impossible, her face beamed even more. "Oh, what joy it is to be forgiven!" she exclaimed, then she did the most amazing thing I've seen in my entire life, no lie.

She lifted into the air, and flew over to me.

I never truly believed in the possibility that humans could fly. It wasn't scientifically possible; how could someone without wings or a propeller drift through the air of their own accord? It wasn't right.

But seeing it myself, with my own two eyes, the doubt in my mind vanished instantaneously. I couldn't deny to believe what was proved so effortlessly, right before me. And I had to remind myself for the zillionth time of where I was – a place of superheroes, where powers were just as common as birds in a tree. Still … I found it incredible hard not to stare.

A silent laugh shook my bones as the red-haired beauty queen took both my hands into hers, much gentler than the previous contact we shared. She looked at me with deep emotion very evident in her green eyes. "It is my pleasure to welcome you officially into our home. My name is Starfire, and I am more than delighted to make your acquaintance, Remi Roth." She smiled again, and the corners of my mouth twitched. I was doing my best to fight a grin, because I knew it would look more like a grimace anyway. I didn't want to make Starfire feel bad, not after what just happened. Though strong on the outside, it was apparent that she was fragile in the mind.

Releasing my hands, Starfire floated over to the kitchen counter and snatched up three large serving dishes covered in silver domes. It was amazing to watch her carry them over to the table, to observe how easily she held them in her hands. I wondered if she was stronger than Cyborg.

I imagined the two Titans locked in an arm wrestling match as I took my seat beside Mom, who had watched the entire scene unfold without saying one word. Her face was expressionless, like mine was – hopefully. Nightwing had taken the seat at the end, and Cyborg next to him, my mother between the giant half-robot and myself. Starfire set the last of the food down on the table – which I just realized was candle lit and more stunning than ever – and took the vacant seat beside Nightwing.

I tried to dodge it as long as I could, but I wasn't able to deny the fact that Greg, Darien, and Syrus were sitting directly across from me, all watching me with amused faces. Darien was trying so hard to hold in his laughter that he made sputtering noises, covering his mouth with both hands and visibly shaking. He'd get a stomach ulcer soon, if he didn't explode first.

Greg was softer, more understanding than ridiculing. Though his face never wavered from that incredibly dazzling smile of his. I carefully avoided his eyes.

At last there was the scowling blond, though this time he didn't seem as hostile. He was staring me up and down with mocking silver eyes, a sneer on his face. But there was more to it. I couldn't depict the hidden significance to his expression, but I knew that something was there.

"Are we ready to chow down?" Cyborg asked, a toothy grin on his face that reminded me of a dog.

"Not quite," Nightwing answered.

"We're still missing someone," Greg added, and Syrus suddenly sighed in annoyance, rolling his eyes. My gaze drifted over the group surrounding me; everyone I already met was here. Who could be missing?

"Well, at least you weren't the last to arrive, right, Remi?" Darien snickered, not completely over his little hysteria attack.

As if on cue, the doors to the main room slid open. The movement caught everyone's attention, and we all turned to see who was last to arrive.

It _wasn't_ another of the original Teen Titans, as I wildly predicted. Rather, a young girl walked casually in the room, the wires to earphones dangling from either side of her head and attached to something in her jeans pocket. She struck me as incredibly familiar, and it didn't take a genius to grasp why. I had just met her mother.

Long, pumpkin orange hair flowed straight over her shoulders, reaching the middle of her back. Her yellow-hue skin stretched across a thin, adolescent body, giving off the impression of either preteen or very early teenage years. She was definitely the youngest person in the room. Her eyes were closed as she walked, most likely by memory, to the chair on the opposite end of the table, far across from Nightwing. There she sat gracefully, though rather carelessly, and began to mouth the words to the song she was listening to.

Nightwing cleared his throat noisily, but it had no effect. She ignored him, the music blasting in her ears, her mind outwardly unaware of the people around her.

Greg leaned over the short amount of space between them and pinched her in the shoulder.

"Ow!" she shouted, wincing away from his touch and rubbing the sore spot on her arm with her palm. Her eyes snapped open, so fast it was a blur, and an icy blue gaze stared down the dark-haired teen. "What the hell, idiot? Do you _want _me to kill you in your sleep?" I guess it was meant to be threatening, but all it did was throw Darien into an uncontrolled fit of laughter. The girl pulled out a shiny MP3 player and paused her song, removing her earphones as well.

"Bluefire, it is rude to speak to your brother in that manner, and you should not say the 'H' word," Starfire reprimanded, but her words were as gentle as a feather. I thought it impossible for her to be harsh. "Please, apologize."

"_Don't _call me Bluefire." The girl's voice was cold, ominous. The total opposite of her mother's. "I hate saying this over and over again, but you never get the point. It's _Jory_. You know, the name you gave me at birth? Dad, please tell my _mother _what her daughter's name is. I don't think she knows."

"That was unnecessary, Jory," Nightwing scolded … wait, _Nightwing?! _The dark and mysterious leader of the Titans was this brat's _father? _It was shocking, for I didn't peg him as the father type. Hell, not even the husband type, though I had to admit his face glowed a bit when Starfire sat down next to him. And the two were holding hands, something I hadn't noticed until now. What other surprises were held in store for me?

"_I_ think it was necessary," Jory mumbled in a bossy, immature manner.

"Apologize to both your mother and Greg."

"Why do _I _have to say sorry? _He's _the one who's being rude! You think _he _should go around pinching people? He could've broken my arm, the moron!" Every time she spoke of him, she'd thrust her skinny arm at Greg, pointing her finger right in his face. But all her brother did was raise his eyebrows, falsely astonished of the accusation.

It was _me _who was truly astounded. _How could Greg have broken her arm with a pinch? _I mused, glancing again at the mark on Jory's arm. It was red and puffy, looking more like she was clamped by something stronger than two fingers.

"And her, too! I shouldn't _have _to tell my own freaking mom what my name is! Would you like me to spell it for you, mommy? J-O-R-"

"Enough!"

Nightwing's bellow echoed in the vast space of the room. He stood from his chair, his knuckles on the table, white with controlled fury. A glare that was sure to be terrifying was hidden behind his narrowed mask, and his lips were pursed. "Apologize, now." His voice was more threatening than I'd ever heard it, and I was glad not to be in Jory's position. I glanced at Starfire; she was anxious, concern written all over her face, her gaze jumping between Nightwing and her daughter.

Jory scoffed lightly, but the fear was quite eminent in the sound. "What's the point now?" she muttered, so quietly that only Greg or me could possibly hear, for we were closest. Sighing in defeat, she mumbled a quick and emotionless "Sorry" to her family, then went to put her earphones back in.

"Not during dinner," Nightwing said, his voice still stern. At least he had sat back down.

The unpleasant child's brow furrowed in a deep scowl, but she did not speak. She wrapped the wires around the player and put it in her pocket.

Other than the incredibly awkward – well, for me, anyways – drama that reminded me of a scene in some movie I forget the name of, the dinner went by smoothly and uninterrupted. The food was delicious, probably the best homemade cooking I've ever tasted! The classic spaghetti and meatballs was a bit of a letdown, but the flavor was so different, so … extravagant. Starfire should write a cookbook. The only thing I didn't really enjoy was the sauce – Darien promised me I'd like it, but a joking promise it was, for it tasted like rotten tomatoes and window cleaner. I couldn't possibly understand why.

Topics of conversation were brought up within the first few minutes, and already Cyborg and Nightwing broke off from the general group to discuss mechanical something of whatever. Mom was talking to Starfire, the two catching up with the last couple of weeks. They acted like best friends, laughing and agreeing in sync with one another. It was an odd sight, my mother laughing with someone other than me. It's not that I didn't like it, for that would make me selfish if I did; it was just unusual. I'd hoped to be used to it by the end of my first week.

I'd mostly kept my focus on the younger crowd. Syrus was actually being very talkative, chatting vivaciously with Darien about God knows what. I didn't quite catch anything of their discussion; they were mumbling too low for me to hear from across the table. The thing that kept my attention on them, however, was Syrus's eyes. They kept darting back to look at me, not caring whether or not I noticed. They held no emotion, but that same hidden meaning remained, still too unclear to portray. It made me feel uneasy.

Jory barely acknowledged me, though this I was thankful to. She was so arrogant, so hardhearted, that I wondered how she was bred from a family of heroes who care about and protect people. Was Jory a Titan in training also, like her brother? I was afraid to ask; actually, I was afraid to say anything, even to ask my own mother to pass the bread.

Greg had been quiet most of the time, occasionally overhearing something that the others were saying and chuckling to himself while they laughed out loud. I often found him staring at me, more than Syrus was. And it was a different kind of stare, because whenever he realized that I felt his eyes on me, he'd look away, play with his food, and wait for another opportune moment. It was always the same. And I didn't know what to make of it.

I was almost finished eating when Greg suddenly leaned over to Jory and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. She glowered at him. "I just want you to know," he said, and I heard the lampoon in his voice, "that I forgive you. So don't beat yourself up, kid. It's okay."

"Oh, shut up," Jory snapped under her breath, smacking his hand away. Greg and Darien laughed, but Syrus paid no attention.

There was something else I noticed during this very observant supper; Jory couldn't keep her eyes off Syrus. All dinner, she'd been ignoring everyone else and shooting fervent glances in his direction, her blue eyes eager and expectant. But he gave absolutely no notice to her whatsoever, and when she finally realized his unawareness, she got mad, stabbed her food with her fork, and took an angry bite. I found this amusing, but I kept that little fact to myself, and off of my face.

Finally, the adults finished their meals and stood from the table, off on their own for the night. My mom patted my back with a comforting touch.

"I'll be in my room if you need me. Stop by, or call whenever you like, okay?"

I nodded, and my mom looked thoughtful for a moment. We both knew that I hadn't said a word all evening, and this troubled her more than it did me. I was used to the silence of my mouth; it went with the façade.

After she left, I was stuck with the teens and completely at a loss of what to do. I was as full as I could get, so eating to keep my mouth busy was out of the question. Leaving wasn't an option, for where would I go? I already forgot the way back to my room.

"So, Jor, did you even notice an extra number on the head count today?" Darien asked, leaning his chair back on two legs. His hands were interlaced across his chest.

Jory looked up at him, her face blank for once. "Do you think I'm an idiot, Stone?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

Greg snickered, and Jory turned her cold gaze on him. It had no effect. Then, suddenly, she was looking straight at me, my eyes locked with hers. I didn't like this. The way she checked me over, just looking for a blemish that she could pick and prod at until I was raw, it made me feel like _I _was the younger one here, a child before a scolding. My sixth sense was going nuts. She was too familiar to a girl I knew, a girl I saw only yesterday in a construction site. I got a _really_ bad feeling.

"Jory, meet Remi," Greg introduced. "She's Rav–"

"Raven's daughter, yeah, I know," Jory cut in, impatient. Her gaze never left mine, and my face never lifted from its hard, expressionless cover. I knew what she was trying to do, for I've had plenty of expertise in this area. She was trying to intimidate me. _Well, sorry kid, but I don't crack easily nowadays. And I don't intend on going back to that dark world I call Hell. So forget about it. _I tried conveying these words through my eyes only, but whether or not she understood, I didn't know.

A long, exasperated sigh snapped us both from the fixation. We turned our heads in unison to see Syrus stand up. "Are we hitting the sand, or what?" he grumbled, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. His bangs fell over his eyes again, shadowing his face.

"Yeah, yeah."

Greg and Darien got to their feet. Jory stood up with them, sudden excitement lighting her mood. "We going to the beach?" she asked, the sharpness in her voice suddenly long gone.

"_We _are. I'm not sure little Miss _Bluefire _should come after Daddy's scolding. What if he gets mad at you again?" Darien mocked, rubbing his eyes in imitation of a crying baby. "Is the itty bitty Bluefire gonna cry?"

Jory's teeth gritted together rather audibly.

"You," she said, every ounce of threat in her voice real, "are so going to wish you'd never been born." Her eyes suddenly went aglow, the blue ring of her retina expanding to cover the white. She looked like a blue demon, and I was instantly wary of what was going to happen next. I stood, taking a couple steps away so I was down by Nightwing's empty end of the table. And safely out of range.

Darien's smile didn't falter, but his eyes were cautious now. His stance had altered, from one of jeering to that of defensive. Would the two really fight, right here in the Tower? Would my first sight of whatever powers they obtained be in an act of violence against one another?

The story of my life.

But now was not that time, because before anyone could do anything, both Greg and Syrus had stepped between the two. Greg gripped his little sister's frail shoulders, staring down at her with eyes that would make anyone do his bidding. Syrus pushed Darien back several steps, so that when they stopped they were right next to me. I heard him muttering in the dark boy's ear, "…Why waste your time? She's just a psycho…" Jory had hesitated, the fury still emanating from her, but after a few seconds she calmed down. Fists clenched as tight as her jaw, her glowing blue eyes returned to normal. She exchanged a fleetingly sinister look with her brother before she spun out of his grasp and stalked off towards the door.

Just as she got there, she turned her head and snapped over her shoulder, "Who needs to hang out with you three losers, anyway?" Then, her eyes met mine for the second time, and she smirked a dangerous smirk. "Oh, I meant to say _four _losers." And with that, she was gone.

The atmosphere immediately brightened as soon as she left, all tension ripped away with her departure. Greg didn't seem troubled anymore, nor did Darien. He was already cracking another joke, mimicking Jory's dark remarks in a hilarious, high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like her.

Greg came up to me, his face rueful. "Sorry about her," he said, "It's not true, you know. You aren't a loser."

I couldn't help it; I scoffed, looking away with a dark look settling on my face. "Me? Not a loser? Yeah, right." If I wasn't a loser, I wouldn't call high school a nightmare.

The other two turned at my remark, surprise on Darien's face.

"So the freak can talk, huh?" Syrus heckled, looking at me with hostility again. Greg turned to glare at him, almost as if … he were defending me. This I did not expect, not one bit. _No, I'm imagining it. Nobody would bother to defend me except my mom, _I thought, trying to convince myself. He was just mad at his sister still, and thought that maybe Syrus was taking her side. Then why would Syrus call her a psycho…?

"Aw, shut up, Sy. If she's a freak, than you should join the circus!" Darien said, punching the blond lightly in the arm. Again, I got the sense that I was being guarded, but I couldn't understand it.

"Come on," Greg said, "We're losing daylight."

Syrus took the lead, heading towards the elevator that would take us to the bottom level. Darien followed, his hands in his jean pockets and whistling an unfamiliar tune. I took the rear, very aware of Greg keeping pace beside me. I still couldn't depict his behavior.

In the elevator, I was careful to avoid contact with any of them. A light sweat was forming on the back of my neck, unfortunately unable to hide behind my short, dark hair.

"So, how do you like the Tower, Remi?" Greg asked, trying to spark conversation. With an audience surrounding me, I couldn't be rude by ignoring him.

"It's …" I started, searching in vain for the right word to describe it, "… big."

"No duh," Syrus snorted.

"Hmm … I've never met anyone by the name of Remi…" Darien mused, crossing his arms and tugging on an imaginary beard. "Could it be French, perhaps?"

"If it was French, she'd be a guy," Syrus pointed out, referencing the name Rémy. "It wouldn't really surprise me if she was, actually."

"Hey, watch it, jackass," Greg snapped, anger visible on his face. I wasn't offended – I never get offended anymore, because the people who _try _to offend me are all idiots. Instead, Greg's reaction confused me again. And Darien's, too.

"Yeah, dude, no need to throw insults around."

"Right, Dare, because you're always a polite gentleman. Give me a break."

"Let's talk about something else," Greg suggested. He looked at me, though I didn't meet his eyes. "How 'bout we talk about abilities?"

I started to feel queasy, because this was the part of the conversation I had been dreading ever since they started talking to me. They wanted to know what powers I had, what incredible things I could do. And I was going to disappoint them.

Before I could do anything, the doors to the elevator glided open silently. I hastily stepped out, hoping they didn't notice my useless effort to escape their questioning charade. They followed me. While we walked, I noticed with horror that I was in the middle of the group, Greg to my right, Darien to my left, and Syrus behind me. I was the center of attention. I _hated _being the center of attention.

It was Syrus – curse his soul – that brought it up.

"Well? What kind of powers you got, dork?" he stated in a ridiculing tone, as if he knew what my answer would be. I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Since he was behind me, I couldn't read his face, but I imagined it twisted in a scornful sneer.

There was a long, rather awkward silence as we reached the tall door.

"…Maybe we should show her ours first," Greg offered, and I couldn't stop myself from looking at him, gratitude in my eyes. He returned the favor with a smile, his perfect white teeth flashing. "You know, ease the awkwardness," he added.

"I'm in," Darien said elatedly. Syrus sighed, apathetic about the idea, but said nothing. I waited for Greg to place his hand on the scanner beside the door, opening it, and then let him take the lead outside. I was still pondering on what I was going to say, trying not to think of what their reactions would be – Syrus's in particular.

It was getting darker out, the sun low in the west. Crimson pink clouds highlighted the sky, the slight waves in the bay reaching up to them in gentle curves. It was truly a beautiful scene to paint, every artist's dream. I stared at it in awe, taken aback by the majesty of it all. Could this place get any cooler?

Greg led us to the right, around the Tower and away from the paved part of the island. There, the land got a bit rockier, the sound of small stones and pebbles crunching underfoot echoing in the silence. Gradually, it softened to a light pat, and I realized we were at the beach. Looking around, I took in the scenery; it was beautiful, as I suspected. Water licked the shoreline with a rhythmic beat, the pale sand smooth and perfect. Higher on shore, closer to the building, were larger rocks, black with the humidity and jagged sharp at the top. The sudden image of me falling down from the roof, the air whistling through my ears and stinging my eyes to tears, gave me the shivers. Because I knew what type of death awaited me at the bottom, and all too well could I imagine the sharp edges of the rocks puncturing through my body.

_Please, Remi… _the voice whispered, sounding very far away, _try not to think about it … that's in your past... Leave it there._

_I'll do my best, thanks._

Turning away, I saw Syrus walk ahead of us, taking slow and deliberate steps along the shore. His fair hair almost looked white in the gleaming sunlight, ruffled by the breeze. The fizzling water crawled higher up the coast, creeping around his shoes, soaking the ends of his pants. Then I noticed something off; the water was only higher wherever Syrus was, not anywhere else. It was almost like he was a water magnet, pulling it with him wherever he went. It was attached to him, connected.

"All right," Darien stated, his sudden deep voice making me jump. I turned and saw him a few yards behind me; Greg was still by my side, watching with an amused, expectant expression. I waited.

"Remember when you shook my hand, Remi?" Darien asked, his light brown skin glowing with the sunset. I nodded, surprised at how easily I could communicate with him. But the memory was faint from the stress of the rest of the day, and all I could really recall was the tiny jolt that shot through my hand when I touched his skin.

"Yeah, well," he said, almost boasting, "This is why you got a little shock."

He held out his arms like he was about to hug somebody, and my eyes widened as I watched another unbelievable event. Very visible sparks emanated from his hands, the wild sound of static reminding me of a dead television channel. It was like watching him form lightning, incredible enough that he could make it at all. The electricity crawled up his arms quickly, like he was a live wire, and gradually grew louder and bigger. I noticed that the more of his body the sparks covered, the stronger they were.

I also noticed that I wasn't as surprised as I would've thought. The brief amount of time I've had to get used to this new world of superhumans must have prepared me for anything, now. If I had seen this a few weeks ago, I would've flipped out and run away, wondering frantically if the freak would follow. But ever since I learned I might be a freak also – more than usual, I mean – I didn't really have that kind of reaction now. This world … it fascinated me. And so did Darien's power.

"Cool, huh?" he asked, completely immodest. The flickers suddenly faded away, as fast as they had come.

"Yeah," I croaked, realizing my throat was dry. I tried unsuccessfully to clear it as quietly as possible. "I mean, how are you … able to …"

"I've always been able to do it, ever since I was born," he started, sliding his hands of a new meaning behind his back. Walking up to me, he explained, "My skin has an abnormally high electricity rate, one that, after a time of practice, I learned to command. Cyborg helped me a lot with my control."

"He's your dad?" I guessed, my voice monotone despite the burning curiosity in my brain. I didn't think Cyborg was capable of having kids, not in his robotic condition.

Darien let out a laugh, and for once it was humorless. "No, he's just my guardian. Though I like to think of him as a father most of the time. Cyborg adopted me when I was five, and before that I lived in an orphanage in Philadelphia." He sighed, as if this memory held an implication I didn't understand.

"Dare's lived in the Tower with us ever since," Greg added. "I remember the day Cyborg brought you here, man!" He laughed, and so did Darien.

"Yeah, me too. God, that was hilarious. You got in a few lucky punches before Starfire could pull you off me!"

"I still have the scar from when you hit me on the head with that lamp!" Greg laughed even harder now, and I felt more puzzled than ever. If they had a fight, why was it so funny?

_I suppose it's a guy thing, _my voice offered, but this I had already guessed.

_If it is, I won't ever understand boys._

_Yeah, I agree. They're too foreign, in my opinion._

I was a bit surprised that the voice and I actually saw eye to eye on something, but that was irrelevant now. I had a bucket-load of questions that were somehow going to be asked as inconspicuously as possible. I waited for them to calm down before I spoke.

"Is electricity all you can control?" I asked, glad my voice still gave nothing away.

"Yeah, pretty much. I can control my own voltage, as well as whatever I can find around me." Darien shrugged. "But I've got a wicked mind for mechanics, too. I learned basically everything about machines from Cyborg, whether cars or computers. He saw how I liked to take stuff apart, see what makes them tick, and then try to put them back together."

I nodded as I absorbed this information, storing it in my brain like I did everything else. So Darien could control electricity. That was a cool power, much cooler than anything else I've seen so far. Well, I still thought my mom's powers were better, but I liked it all the same.

"Have you ever lost control?" I asked, trying to stretch out his explanation as long as I could. The more these guys talked, the less time I would have in explaining why I wasn't special.

Darien shook his head, looking both proud and frustrated with this fact. "It's kind of hard to lose control, it's so contained. That's why it took a lot of practice to learn how to bring it out of me. My system's really good at holding it in."

I nodded again, looking away. My gaze went out across the bay as a strange silence overtook the conversation. I was out of questions for him, and I was afraid I might be showing off too much of my inquisitive side already. I waited for them to do something.

"You done bragging yet?" Syrus called, and I unwillingly turned around to see him walking towards us.

"Where'd you go?" Greg asked.

"You guys got really boring, so I took a walk. Did the loser spill her powers yet?" His scrutinizing gaze turned on me, and I looked away before he could meet my eyes.

"No, we only got through Darien's powers."

"God, you guys are slow!" Syrus growled, rolling his eyes. His arms were crossed across his chest. "It takes two freaking seconds to show someone what you can do! For example…" As he said this, I noticed in my peripheral vision that the waves were getting stronger, more vicious. Water again. It would be no shock what Syrus's abilities were.

As I expected, a large glob of water suddenly rose from a few feet into the bay, washing over in the air like a tremendous raindrop. It drifted over to us, swirling around Syrus's still form in a whirlpool. It didn't even look like he was doing it; he acted like he paid no attention to the water whatsoever. Was he that far advanced in his training?

"Show off…" I heard Greg mutter beside me, so quiet I'm not sure I was supposed to hear. Just as I glanced at him to see his expression, the water twisted away from Syrus's figure and shot forward in a shape resembling an open hand.

Right at my face.

I was hit with the chilling water, a gasp escaping me against my better judgment. The water flowed effortlessly into my mouth, swirling down into my lungs so easily I knew Syrus was doing it on purpose. My hands flung to my throat, choking sounds gurgling from within me, as I fell and landed on my back, flat in the sand. There I squirmed ineffectively against the water gripping me, drenching me. I squeezed my eyes shut as the burning desire for air became my only need.

Why was Syrus drowning me? Did he hate me so much that he wished I didn't exist? That he wished I was dead?

I heard shouts, sounding very far away. As time passed, my struggling started to weaken.

_Remi! Remi, no! Come back! _The urgent tone of the voice sounded so distant, so unreal. I reached out for it in my mind, but found nothing.

Suddenly, the water lifted, clearing out from my lungs and throat as if it were never there, slithering away from me like a snake. I roughly inhaled a huge gust of air before the coughing began, my chest convulsing spasmodically, violently. My eyes shot open, wide and frantic, and landed on a tall figure standing protectively in front of me. His black hair ruffled with freedom, his clenched fists surrounded in a circle of brilliant red light. His head turned slowly, and I stared into the flaming red eyes of a demon, so dark in shade it was glowing blood.

Then the world slipped away.


	9. Answers

My Life

Chapter Nine: _Answers_

Cool whispers flew in and out of my ears, all of them calling my name in breathless gusts. I was floating, drifting through a black sky, all light fading away into nothingness. And I was so very cold, the chills racking through my body so fierce that the shivers felt explosive. My teeth chattered silently as I tried to wrap myself into a tight, warm ball. But I couldn't move. All I could do was endure the off-season winter, and hope no snow would come.

_Remi… _a voice, one I recognized, floated past me with a worried tone. I tried to turn my head towards it, but I was frozen.

_Remi … don't leave … come back … _

Yes, I wanted to think, but not even that seemed possible in this black void. I felt restrained against something, tightly clamped and unable to break free. I was too weak.

_Remi … wake up, Remi … wake up …_

_Open your eyes._

And I did. Surprisingly enough, I managed to do that one little action, and it didn't even take much effort. I was staring up at a dark sky, the stars invisible behind the clouds. _The sun must have set,_ I thought. How long was I out for?

"Remi?" a new voice, still laced with concern, was right by my ear, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

I turned, and my breath caught in my throat. Greg was there, his beautiful face inches from mine as he propped me up against his chest, his arms wrapped around my waist. I stared, wide-eyed, as his pretty maroon gaze examined me closely, pure anxiety clear in his features. What had happened that made him like this? I couldn't remember much, I'll admit. We were on the beach, Greg and me, Darien and Syrus…

Syrus.

It all came back in a flood.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, my hands reaching up to touch my throat. It was wet, dripping with water. As was my face … and hair … and clothes…

"You started breathing evenly about five minutes ago," Greg explained in that musical tone of his, "You weren't out long. Maybe ten minutes."

I found myself looking at him again. His eyes were clearer, brighter with relief as he realized I was in decent condition. I struggled with his grip on me, but it was like pushing against stone. I shot him a glance, hoping he got the idea I was trying to portray.

He did. A moment later, he was helping me gently to my feet.

"Where's …?" I couldn't really say his name yet. Not because it caused me emotional trauma, but because halfway into the sentence, my throat suddenly grew hoarse, and I could speak no more. I coughed briefly, hoping I didn't look too pathetic with the trio in my presence.

"Over here," Darien's voice called, and I spun around to see the chocolate-skinned boy pinning Syrus to the ground. The liquid-controller's strength was no match for Darien's physical superiority, so his struggles were futile.

"Ge'off me!" Syrus mumbled, his face half-buried in the sand. A sudden blast of water shot out of the ocean, and Greg stepped in front of me protectively. But I didn't even flinch, surprisingly so. I just watched as the water split into three spiraling bullets, flying across the ground and preparing to knock Darien off his feet. I knew shouting out a warning would do no good.

But Darien looked up, his face concentrated. Something I didn't quite expect followed after that. The sparks I had once seen emanating from his arms now flung furiously from his face, his eyes, shooting out farther than I could've imagined and hitting the bullets before they could get close enough to even splash him. Electricity _did_ travel at the speed of light, after all. When the two elements made impact, a small cloud of mist burst out as the water evaporated into thin air. The fog slowly settled down to the ground, then began to fade away, blowing to the side from the cool sea breeze.

"Nice try," Darien smirked, his eyes teasing even though Syrus couldn't see them. He was facedown in the dirt, the thunder boy on his back, gripping his hands firmly in a cross behind him. It almost looked like Darien was a cop, there to arrest him, put him in cuffs. The fitting irony was almost laughable.

"What the hell were you thinking, dude?" Darien asked, the new frustration clear in his deep sound. "You could've killed her!"

"Were you thinking at all?" Greg snapped, more irate than I would have suspected. Did it really upset him that much if I got hurt? I was still in shock from the attack; I didn't feel the confusion or disbelief as I thought of the possibility.

Syrus said something inaudible, and Darien permitted his head to free from the sand. He spit out a couple grains before speaking again. "I was testing her. I wanted to know if she had a strong defensive power. The curiosity was driving me crazy."

"You couldn't have waited? You couldn't have restrained your stupid impatience?"

"Do you really place me as a patient guy? Seriously?"

Greg hesitated, and I knew the answer was no. But I was starting to get mad myself. Syrus had drowned my lungs in water, blocking off my airways and nearly killing me, just to test the abilities I don't even have? The situation was so absurd, _I _was going to be the one going crazy. My fists clenched by my side.

"Dare, I'm not gonna hurt her again. Get off," Syrus growled, and after a few moments Darien got to his feet. Syrus followed, brushing sand off the front of his pants when he was upright again. I noticed a freshly burned hole on the front of his shirt, and also on his right sleeve…

"Greg, man, you didn't have to shoot at me," the dirty blond grumbled irritably, gesturing to the singed ends. My eyes flew to Greg, who was still standing in front of me. I could only see part of his expression.

"Yeah, right, because what _you _did was completely necessary," Greg replied sarcastically, and I saw him roll his eyes. "You could have just asked."

"I did."

"You could have asked _again._"

"I think my way was more effective," Syrus looked from Greg's face down to me, his eyes mocking. "Now I know how weak that sap _really _is. No defense at all. Not even an ounce of retaliation."

_Hello? Where have _you _been? Did you not see me thrashing around on the ground, moron?_

I would've said it out loud, but all that would've come out was a throaty whisper. I tried clearing my throat again. Greg turned now, his curious red stare hitting me with full force. I was in trouble now.

"You don't have … any defenses?" he asked, and Syrus grinned devilishly as if he had just converted Greg onto the dark side of pure evil. Which might be possible.

"I don't …" I paused to clear my throat for the umpteenth time before saying, "I don't know what you mean by 'defenses'?"

"I mean your powers. You don't have any way of protecting yourself with them?"

I hesitated, looking like the real idiot I was, before I dropped my eyes to my feet. This was the moment. All my dread, all my fear, suddenly increased ten-fold, making my heart pump frantically.

"I don't have any powers." It was just a whisper, so faint it could've been mistaken for the wind. But they all heard me as clearly as if I'd shouted it to the sky.

The moment of truth; how would they react to the shocking news? To the fact that a weak, insignificant, powerless _sap, _as Syrus had called me, was going to be a Titan in training? It was half and half, really.

Syrus scoffed, crossing his arms matter-of-factly. "Knew it…" he muttered, his arrogant pose never changing. I so wanted to kick him below the belt, which surprised me a bit. I wasn't a very violent person. _I guess people change._

Greg said nothing, just watched me with careful, expectant eyes. It was almost as if he thought I was lying, like I was about to shout, "Just kidding!" and burst out with all the potential that I don't even have in my system. Would he accept me if this was his reaction? Did I honestly care?

"None?" Darien asked, genuinely shocked. His eyes were wide as he stared at me. "Not even a little bit? I would've thought … with Raven as your mom …" He let the sentence trail, because I already knew the meaning behind it; Raven was indeed my mother, and a powerful empath with an incredible variety of abilities, and here I was, her only daughter, not a single ounce of power in me. Except…

"Well, that's not true … exactly," I started, but instantly regretted my words. Greg straightened his posture, looking me in the face with pure interest. Darien took a few steps forward, and Syrus scowled, thinking of this as bad news. I hesitated, and then shook my head.

"What, Remi? Tell us?" Greg's voice was so soothing, so inviting … how could I deny him what he wanted to know?

_Tell them. _

I sighed inwardly. _Glad to see you weren't damaged in the drowning process, _I muttered sarcastically.

_Yes, and it's great that you're okay, believe me, _the voice said in a rush, _but they're waiting, Remi. You have to tell them._

_I thought you said to leave that in my past? _I argued.

_They don't need the whole story. Just talk about the part with your power. They'll understand._

I sighed again, this time on the outside, and with defeat. They waited as I thought of how to put the words together. I also took this moment to collect my bearings, and by the time I was ready to talk, my voice was cold and emotionless, my face deadpan.

"The whole reason I'm even here right now is because of a couple days ago," I started, "There was an … accident, near my school. I got caught in the middle of it, and ended up … bleeding to death. Almost."

"Wait, hold up!" Darien interrupted, and I turned to glare at him as he spoke. He flinched slightly but didn't stop. "What kind of accident? What happened to you?"

"I … I got stabbed. With one of those spikes you always see in the construction areas, you know?" I glanced around me fleetingly, taking in all their reactions. Darien looked just about burning with curiosity, Syrus had tilted his head to the side, and Greg looked mortified … maybe even disgusted. His blazing eyes never left me, though I didn't dare look into them.

"Those things are _huge!_" Darien said, acting as the awed voice of my audience. "How could you get stabbed by one of them? It would've gone straight through you!"

"It did," I whispered, the memory of it involuntarily widening my eyes in fear. Greg gasped almost silently, so quiet only I heard his intake of breath. Darien was trying to picture it in his mind, shivering, and now Syrus took a step forward. I was the true center of attention now, no going back. But I suddenly didn't care.

"So how…?" Greg's musical murmur was pained, and I shuffled my feet awkwardly.

"When I got off the spike, all I wished was for my death to be swift, that the pain would go away. The next thing I knew, it was hours later … and I was fine."

"What?" Greg burst out, his eyes wide in confusion.

"What do you mean, 'fine'?" Syrus asked, speaking up for the first time. His voice was still sharp, but not as accusing as before.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Darien beat me to the punch. "Don't you see?" he said, crossing his arms and smiling to himself. He was smarter than I gave him credit for if he figured it out already. "She was fine because she was healed. She _healed _herself. Right?" I nodded, confirming his words as the truth; but my curiosity gave out and I asked him how he knew. "Raven can do it, too," he explained. "Heal people. That's how I guessed." He shrugged almost modestly.

"Only, I didn't know what happened until my mom explained it to me at home," I continued. "That's when this whole Teen Titan mess began."

"The Teen Titans aren't a mess," Syrus said, his brow furrowed in what might have been bemusement, or frustration. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't mean a mess as in general, but just a mess to me."

"If you think that way, you _really _shouldn't be here."

"I didn't–"

"Save it for someone who cares."

"_No, _I just ... I meant…" It was too late. He had taken my words the wrong way. He thought I just insulted his lifestyle. _Um, a little help here?_

_Sorry, I'm just as tongue-tied as you are._

I sighed, aggravated, inside my own mind._ This is why I never talk._

_I don't know what to say. Honest, I don't. _

_Great. _Now _what am I supposed to do?_

I was preparing to walk back inside the Tower, alone, when Greg suddenly said, "If you can heal yourself, then why did you say you had no powers?" I looked at him, a bit taken aback by his tone. It wasn't quite angry, but maybe a little … exasperated? "Healing is a power, even if it's a bit neutral."

"Because I don't know what I did to heal myself. I was never able to do it before that, and I was half unconscious during most of whatever process went on." I sighed, appalled at how much I've already said. I should've stopped yesterday, at, "Okay."

"So … you have the ability, but you just can't harness it?" Darien prompted, eyebrows raised. I nodded again, clamping my mouth shut at last. He snickered. "That's why you're here, silly! To learn how to use that ability to your advantage! I bet by the time you're done here, you'll know how to heal not only yourself, but other people as well!"

"I'll take that bet," Syrus muttered, scowling again. Darien didn't seem to hear him; he was on a roll.

"It's a lot to consider, I know. But I've _been _through what you're going through." _I highly doubt that. _"And I can help you with learning control."

"We all can," Greg suggested, smiling now. He was close – a bit too close for my own being to sustain sanity. I shifted the weight on my leg so I was leaning away from him, hoping he didn't notice my cringe. I wasn't used to nonviolent close contact with other people, especially boys. The feeling of being pressed against Greg's hard chest was still fresh in my mind.

"That's a _very_ sweet sentiment. I'm melting with emotion, I swear I am."

My heart sank into my stomach as I recognized the voice, the iciness clear through that same harmonious tone I learned to admire. Only a split-second after she spoke, Jory came into view, but not from the angle I expected. She came from _above, _flying through the air just as her mother did before dinner, the resemblance between the two still as striking as ever. Her ginger hair was even more noticeable in the fading light of night; it seemed so radiant, almost glowing in the dark.

"What are _you _doing here?" Darien demanded, crossing his arms. "I thought we denied your invite, Blue–"

"Don't start, man," Greg warned, holding up a hand to stop him from saying anymore. "I don't want to have to clean up something we could avoid altogether."

"You're just afraid," Jory said to Darien, ignoring her brother. "You don't want to get your butt kicked by a girl." She came to a graceful land in front of everyone. I didn't want to seem like more of a wimp than I already did, so I took a few slow steps out from behind Greg. That way, it didn't really look like I needed protection.

"Oh yeah?" Darien smirked, a challenge in his face. "Wouldn't a mouse be more of an appropriate term?"

"Dare…" Now Greg's voice was threatening. Was he protecting Jory? Or Darien?

"Relax, Greg. I'm just messing around."

"Yeah," Jory added, "I wouldn't waste my time on Stone anyway." Her blue gaze took my direction. "This one, on the other hand…"

"That's gone too far, Jory," Greg stated. I looked at him, noticing how his red gaze seemed to light up in the darkness, a bit like a cat's would. When I glanced back at Jory, her eyes were doing the same, only blue. An idiot could make the connection, but why did it happen in the first place? Why were they so different from the rest of us?

"Yeah," Syrus added, seeming off-hand, "You wouldn't want to attack someone defenseless like the queen dweeb over there. Take it from me, it's no fun." _Queen dweeb?_ Now, isn't that taking it a bit far? I'm not some nerd with an acne problem who likes to paste her glasses back together with duct tape. I'm better than _that, _at least.

"Defenseless, eh?" Jory snickered, again examining me in that same daunting manner. "I would've thought, being a child of a Titan…"

"Nightwing doesn't have any powers," Greg pointed out, and I was surprised he spoke of his father by the name.

"Dad's different," Jory sniffed, "He's better at what he does, being the leader of the Titans since forever and all. Though, people nowadays seem to ignore his pigheadedness."

"Funny. I would've thought _you _to be the pigheaded member of the family," Darien chuckled, shaking his head at the irony. I almost laughed … almost…

Jory ignored him, now staring at me again. "So what _can _you do?" she demanded. Hadn't we gone through this already? She peered closer at my face, and her head tilted to the side slightly. "Wait, why are you all _wet_?"

_I'm getting a bad case of Déjà vu,_ the voice complained.

I sighed. _You and me both._

This time, Greg came to my rescue. "It's getting pretty late," he hinted, interrupting whatever crude comment Syrus was about to say. "You still have some unpacking to do, right, Remi?"

I nodded, trying to keep the gratefulness off my face no matter how fiercely I felt it.

"Well, it's been a long day for you, I'm sure," Jory said, her voice suddenly so sweet it was dangerous. She walked up to me, right to my face, and smirked. I noticed that, for once, I was the same height with someone else here. I had started to feel like a dwarf. "I'll see you at the training session tomorrow, won't I?" she asked innocently.

A training session? So soon? _I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet._

Jory raised her eyebrows at my hesitation.

"Or you could just watch?" Greg suggested, coming up beside me. Jory glared at him, obviously wanting a different answer. Did she want me to participate just to beat me up? Like ... like Lexis? It was too strange a coincidence that this younger girl could remind me of my ancient enemy, and even stranger that she would actually _invite _me to my doom.

"Is it impossible for you to let the girl speak for herself?" she asked, some hidden hint in her voice I couldn't depict. Greg's lips tightened in embarrassment.

It was _my_ turn to rescue _him_. "I'll be there," I said, almost mumbling it. Jory snapped her gaze on me, so fast I swear I heard a _click _as our eyes met. My own eyes narrowed. "But you shouldn't expect much, just to warn you. I'd probably sit and watch, like Greg said."

"Oh, completely understandable!" Jory suddenly laughed, waving her hand as if dismissing some irrelevant piece of information. Very quickly did I grow cautious, and I could feel Greg's body stiffen by my side. "It's your first day here! I wouldn't expect anything more than that. Of course, if you _were_ so special, it wouldn't be such a problem for you…"

I was already backing away, my hands slipping into the dripping pockets of my jeans. Greg followed me. "I'll see you there," I stated simply, ignoring the rest. Glancing quickly from Jory to Darien to Syrus, I spun around and started back to the Tower's door. I was unbelievably aware of three pairs of eyes staring me in the back. Only three, because Greg was still at my side. He was walking me in, like the gentleman he had proved himself to be.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, and I glanced at him in puzzlement to find remorse written all over his face. I waited for an explanation to his regret, but I got none.

"For what?" I couldn't help asking.

"For tonight. I didn't mean for that to go so … _terrible._ I mean, the thing with Syrus … that was completely inexcusable. He shouldn't have done that."

Greg looked like he was about to run back to the group behind us and force the apology out of the teen, but I wouldn't have it. In my mind, the bees of curiosity were beginning to buzz again, perhaps even louder than before.

"It's okay, really," I assured him, not sure why I even bothered. It must be his eyes again; they were smoldering into mine, and I couldn't seem to find the latch that kept my mouth shut. _Where's that damn key? _"Syrus just has a ... different way in discovering things. I understand … sort of."

Greg gave a sober laugh. "Right. But most of the stuff he does is only to grab attention. He tends to lash out, that guy."

"And you? You don't like to stand out?"

"Not really."

"Huh." I paused, listening to the soft squish of the sand become a harder crunch of rocks and pebbles beneath my feet. I couldn't see them in the darkness, but I could feel them. "Why is he like that? Syrus, I mean."

Greg sighed. "I'm not sure if I should say the whole story. It's not my business, after all. But in my opinion, I think he's trying to grab his dad's attention. He's never around, and Syrus hates how ignorant he is to him."

"Who's his dad?"

"You may not have heard of him. He's a member of Titans East, in Steel City. Aqualad?" I shook my head; the name wasn't familiar. "Yeah, I didn't think so. Aqualad raised Syrus until his mom died about nine or ten years ago, I think. Then he had to go back to Titans East, and Syrus stayed with us. After that, he kind of never left."

_Oh, how dramatic, _I thought sarcastically, hoping for a sadder sob story so I could maybe feel pity for the arrogant fool. _I think I might actually tear up over here. Weep, weep, sob, sob. _

_Be nice._

_If he won't, I won't. _

_That's very immature, Remi._

I ignored the voice and asked another question, straying off the Syrus topic for now. "What about … your sister?"

I couldn't see his face – just his glowing red eyes, which seemed to narrow a teensy bit – but I imagined from the resulting silence that his expression might have darkened. I felt him stop next to me, and I halted as well, suddenly realizing we had reached our destination. Greg slipped his palm over the scanner and waited, both of us listening to the quiet beeping noise it gave off. "We'll have to scan your hand soon," he mumbled, "That way, you can come and go from the Tower just as freely as the rest of us."

I could tell, while the tall door groaned open, that he was trying to change the subject. I let him off the hook this time around, but only because he was so nice to me. My shoes squeaked all the way to the elevator, and once we were inside, he suddenly asked, "And what about you? What was your life like before the accident?"

The doors glided shut, and a strong sense of claustrophobia suddenly overtook me. I started to get nervous, my feet tapping and my fists clenching involuntarily. Why, you may ask, would I act this way now and only now? Alone, I would've been fine; same thing as if I'd been in a group. But just me and _Greg, _a teenage boy who I still didn't fully trust, trapped in an elevator for more than a minute? That drove me crazy, paranoid. And that _question_…

"Are you okay?" Greg asked, and I saw in the reflection of the shiny doors that he was looking at me with concern. I also noticed the look on my own face, how scared and exposed it was, and I struggled internally to wipe the expression away. It took a couple seconds, a few deep breaths, but I succeeded.

"I'm fine," I muttered, my voice impassive again, no longer friendly.

"Did I offend you somehow?"

I shook my head, waiting impatiently for the doors to open. When they finally did, I forgot all about the questions bouncing around in my skull and focused on getting away from Greg. _I should've been more careful! _I shouted at myself, my feet taking me swiftly through the main room. _I should've stayed on my guard, locked up like I always am. Why did I think of opening up to some guy I barely know?! _I was through the large room and starting down the next hall before Greg could even say good-bye. Or maybe he did, and I just didn't hear him. My mind fighting with my memories, I recalled the directions I'd taken with my mother earlier today – a time that seemed forever ago – and quickly took the route.

_Calm down, Remi. Your heart rate is through the roof._

_Oh yeah? You can tell that, huh? Because you obviously know everything about me! You're so smart, why do you even stick with a stupid idiot like me?_

_Well, it wasn't my choice…_

_Thanks. That makes me feel _sooo _much better. Really. You should be a guidance counselor. _I was so ticked off, at both myself and .. well, just myself. I needed to take my rage out on something, and the voice's timing was all too perfect.

_You're overreacting, Remi._

_No, I'm not! I should have never agreed to go down with them! I should've never got sucked into their perfect little world or seen their wonderful powers – powers I'll never be able to have, because I'm too different! I'm always different, even to them! All it did to me ... it made me even _more _envious, and it just made them more probing! They'll poke me apart! Two of them already hate me, and one tried to _kill _me! Really, I swear, the night couldn't get any worse. And I don't need you in my head, telling me what to do and what to think, because you shouldn't even _be _in my head in the first place! So just _SHUT UP_ and _LEAVE ME ALONE_!!_

I gasped, stopping right in front of my door, clutching my head at the temples with both hands. A sudden surge of pain shot through my nerves, making my knees buckle under and my body slump to the ground, limp. My stomach lurched, flipping up into my heart, which jumped to strangle my throat. It was so agonizing, so incredibly excruciating, that for a moment my vision blurred. And yet so _random! _Where did this come from? What was happening to me?

As the pain slowly began to fade, I waited for my frantic gasps to return to normal breathing, and then stood in a daze. The anger was wiped clean of my system, leaving me feeling numb. Did that pulse of unexpected migraine have anything to do with this?

_Remi… please, be careful…_

Or, was it the voice? Ignoring everything, I plundered into my room, dark from the lack of sunlight outside. Not bothering to turn the lights on, I carelessly changed out of my wet clothes, slipping on an old T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Confusion … hatred … anger … they were all weak against the numbness. Even the voice was faint, much so that I couldn't even hear what it was saying. Just whispers. I slid into bed, underneath the thick covers despite the heat of the summer. I could barely feel comforted by its luxury; my head throbbed painlessly.

What was happening to me? Was I really so much of a freak … like Syrus and Jory said I was? This probably didn't happen to them, not having to deal with painful memories and an irritating voice in your head _all day. _

I didn't want to think about it anymore. I didn't want to think, period. All I wanted was to sleep, to drift off into my own imaginary world … where I was loved by all, and nobody cared to bother me with anything. And I didn't have any messes to clean up.

* * *

But God didn't love me that night. Nobody did, not even me.

I couldn't sleep. No matter how hard I tried, how evenly I breathed, or how much I yawned, sleep never came. The numbness from earlier was beginning to ease, leaving me with a much smaller headache than the brain blast I so suddenly received before. Occasionally, while time passed as slowly as molasses, I heard soft footsteps approach my door. I kept expecting a knock, or perhaps an intercom call, but as soon as they came, they left. The footsteps faded into the distance, leaving me in the dark.

Now, I lay curled up on my side, my knees pressed up against my chest and encased in my arms. It had gotten a bit too hot underneath all those blankets, and I kicked most of them away a few hours ago; I was left with a soft, silk blanket, so thin and fine that it fell upon my body with poise, fitting to my every curve no matter what position I was in. I was disappointed that the glossy fabric did not soothe my mind like it did my skin.

As the numbness subsided, the voice returned.

_Are you alright, Remi?_

"No," I whispered out loud, glad nobody could hear me. I was alone, and my head hurt too much for me to think. "I honestly, seriously think I'm going insane."

_Come now, I really wish you could see things in a better perspective. _The voice was actually trying to comfort me, though the tone didn't really change. It never did. That's why I couldn't tell if it was male or female, young or old, friend or foe. _I'm your friend. How many times must I tell you this?_

"At least a thousand more."

A sigh. _What am I going to do with you? Should I lock you up in a cage and take control? Perhaps show you how much your life actually makes sense if you just opened your eyes a little wider?_

"Can you do that?" I asked, afraid. My voice shook. "Can you really take over my body? Lock me up?"

_No, Remi. And even if I could, I'd never do that to you. _It seemed sincere, but how could I tell if it was lying or truthful?

I let out a nervous breath, still uncertain. How powerful was this little voice in my head, after all? Strong enough to take me over like some sort of puppet? To block me inside my mind and force me to watch all the dreadful things it made me do as ... me?

"Okay, voice, I want a straight answer, now. And I mean it." Taking a deep, quivering breath, I said, "Tell me what you're doing inside my head. Tell me how you can talk to me, how you can know everything about me. I want to know what's happening to me. My life went from somewhat normal to upside down in a matter of seconds. I just ... I want to know _why. _Why all of this? Now?" By the end, my voice was shaking so much that I could barely recognize a single word coming out of my mouth.

But the voice understood.

_Remi ... _It paused, and I wondered if it was trying to think up another lame excuse to blow me off with. But instead, it said, _I'm not sure if you should know that yet. I don't think you're ready._

"Hell no, I'm not ready!" I nearly shouted, then, with a lower, deliberate voice, I added, "I don't think I'll ever be ready. But I also don't think I want to live out my life thinking I'm a complete nutcase. I need a rational explanation to what's happening to me."

Another sigh, but I was glad to hear it in defeat. _Very well, my friend, very well. I shall tell you the truth. But perhaps ... you should get some sleep first. It's been a long day, and –_

"Don't patronize me."

_But –_

"I'm not going to sleep until you tell me. So spit it out. _Now._"

_Fine. You see, Remi, I'm ... well, I guess you could say I'm your – _

"Please tell me you won't say 'conscience'?"

_Will you let me speak, Miss Persistence? I'm trying to give you the info you so desperately desire, and here I'm stuck with interruptions._

"Sorry. Old habits die hard."

_Tell me about it._

A few moments passed in complete silence. I barely managed to suck in a breath, I was so anxious. The clouds up in the black, night sky parted and the glow of a pale golden moon shone down through my wide window. Ghostly white light pooled across my floor and furniture, casting long shadows that looked more sinister than they were. Was this an omen, telling me not to be deceived by the outlook of things?

_I'm your mind, Remi. _

I started, almost bolting upright in my bed. "What?" I whispered, so silently I merely mouthed the word.

_I'm your mind – your memory, in particular. Everything you've ever learned, everyone you've ever met, I know about. I'm like the little chip you download information into, like computers. _

Panic. "Are you saying I have a microchip in my brain?"

_No, Remi. That was an analogy._

Relief – somewhat. "Wait, so ... you know everything that I know? That's all you are?"

_I'm Knowledge, your most powerful emotion thus far. I outweigh all the others, for I influence you the most. Your thirst to learn, your curiosity to discover things you aren't supposed to know about ... that's me. I'm your intelligence, your smarts. Your inquisitive nature._

I absorbed this, slowly realizing that I had, indeed, moved to a sitting up position in my bed. The light of the moon vanished again, behind the haze of a brewing storm. I heard thunder in the distance, but there was no lightning. Odd.

"You're my intelligence?" I repeated, and my eyebrows rose in spite of myself.

_Knowledge, _the voice corrected.

Huh.

"God, I should've known. I mean, it was so obvious, with the way you talk. You sound like ... _me!_" Feeling sudden adrenaline pump through my veins, I swung my feet over the side of the bed and stood, not really sure where I was going. I ended up pacing in circles around my bed, my eyes fixated on my moving feet, muttering incoherently under my breath.

_Are you in shock? _The voice – Knowledge – asked me as my pace quickened. _'Cause honestly, Remi, you were on the verge of guessing the truth anyway. Why so surprised?_

"I'm not surprised," I snapped, shaking my head. Then my feet slowed to a sudden stop by the bay window, and I fell down onto the cushions. My voice dropped again to a whisper. "Am I? I mean, you probably know my mind better than I do."

_Yeah, probably. But I like to help you out now and then, like I did with the accident._

I froze, my throat blocking up so I couldn't speak. I had to think again. _That was you? You're voice, encouraging me? _My jaw clenched. _Were you the one who healed me? Is that it? Is that why I don't really have any powers, like the other Titans?_

_So many questions, _it sighed, and I imagined it shaking its head. _Yes, it was me. That situation unlocked my voice, Remi, and released me into your mind. I had only a brief time to explore the hopeless chaos of your brain before I had to pull you together. You didn't make it easy._

_I supposed I should thank you, then._

_You're welcome. However, I didn't actually save you, Remi. I couldn't conjure up the healing powers. That was all you. I had nothing to do with it, and quite frankly I think I was more surprised than you were. _

Just then, something registered. Something I didn't catch before, that I should have caught right away. I cleared my throat, bored of using my thoughts.

"You said you overshadowed the others..." I started, speaking calculatingly. "What ... what others did you mean, exactly?"

_I haven't said yet?_

"Um, _no! _Why else would I be asking?" My mutter was sarcastic, a sign that I was returning to normal – whatever that was.

_I meant your other emotions, the ones who haven't been unleashed. You may not hear them, but I do. And believe me; you got the good end of the deal._

"Other emotions..." I pondered, leaning my head against the side window pane. The clouds broke again, and pale moonlight washed over my face. I stared up at the sky, through the glass of the window, while I thought. "So, other emotions are snoozing in my head somewhere? What are they waiting for, another big accident so they can make a grand entrance?"

_It's not that simple. They can only be unleashed at the time where you feel them at their peak. _

"Huh?"

_See? Not simple to understand, is it? What I mean is, if you felt the saddest you've ever felt in your entire life, you're Sadness would unlock. Only then would you hear its voice ... but trust me when I say, you don't want to. Sadness is a bit of a downer. _

I almost giggled. "I suppose so, yeah. So, you came because I felt ... my _intelligence_ the most? If I was dying and in pain, wouldn't my fear be released or something?"

_You were being stubborn to nature, refusing to die no matter how deep the wound. You were searching for a way to survive, and that's where I came in. It gets a little bumpy after that. I don't understand it myself, really. You're lucky I could explain _this _much._

"Lucky, huh? For some reason, I don't find that term appropriate."

Knowledge sighed. _Get some rest, Remi. I've told you all you wanted to know, and I know better than you do that you're exhausted. Today was the last day of school, but also the first day of your new life. _

I replied with a quiet groan, but I didn't get up from the window. So many secrets uncovered, so many answers exposed. I learned a lot tonight, but as I mulled over my new – ahem – knowledge, more questions started popping up in my brain. I still didn't know ... why _me? _Did it have something to do with my mom? Or my dad, whoever the hell he is? Why would this happen now, sixteen years into my life?

I felt my eyes drift close, the lashes fluttering together like the wings of a butterfly. One question in particular was flashing in the front of my mind, so obvious I couldn't ignore it.

Which emotion will be unlocked next?

* * *

**A/N - I AM SO SORRY! Now I know I said I had a laptop, but ... it just didn't work out. And, again, I'm not to blame. My mom is. *scowls in her general direction* Yeah. Take that, Mama. **

**Well, I hoped you liked the update. And I have a new system. I'm now going to update new chapters on my friend's computer, so there won't be any more misunderstandings as to why I am "delaying" my chapters.**

**Make sure to post a Review!**

**- random -**


	10. Aliens and Photographs

My Life

Chapter Ten: _Aliens_ _and_ _Photographs_

I was ninety-nine point seven percent sure I was dreaming.

I had no idea where I was or how I got there, but all of a sudden I was looking into a mirror. My reflection was crystal clear, almost radiant in the light without source. The short dark hair, the ostentatious blue-violet eyes, the heart-shaped ashen face… It was all me. But there was one important difference.

This Remi was smiling. And though I knew my own smile well enough, this grin seemed too foreign to be me. I barely recognized it. What was even creepier was the fact that my reflection was smiling … but I wasn't. We matched each and every one of our movements except for that one facial expression, and no matter how much I frowned or stuck out my tongue, the smile didn't wipe clean.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as seven more mirrors twirled up from the invisible ground, making no noise and taking me completely by surprise. They spun and spun until they formed a complete circle around me, every edge touching one another until I was in the center of a mirror octagon. And now, eight different Remis were watching me, their eyes never leaving my shock-struck face. Each one looked like me, down to the very last detail, and yet … they were all different.

One was elated, one was pouting, one was nervous, one was glaring … so many different versions of me that I don't know, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I shifted, moving my position around, trying to make sense of this oddity, trying to return to reality. The reflections stayed perfectly still, their gazes burning holes into my head. I could feel a wave of hysteria coming over me.

I turned, and found myself face to face with the first double. I looked closer, suddenly too curious for my own sake, and saw something new in her eyes. They weren't blue-violet anymore. They were green … intense, natural green.

As I watched, the replica Remi winked at me.

I woke with a start, my heart pounding hard against my rib cage. I gripped my chest, thinking that if it beat any harder, it would leap out onto the floor. But gradually it began to slow, taking on the familiar rhythm once more.

Instantly, I went from incredibly alert to just plain confused. Why wasn't I in my bed? What had woken me up? What time was it? Then I heard the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops against the glass of the window. It was this very same window that I had fallen asleep on, lying curled with my knees up, my forehead glued to the glass pane. I pried it off, feeling the cool condensation on my skin and sighing. The sound of the rain must have woken me. I was in my room at Titans Tower.

Getting up, I went to my bed and checked the time on the small alarm clock I'd brought with me yesterday. It was almost nine o'clock. Where had the time gone?

Vaguely remembering parts of the day before, I struggled to get dressed and brush my hair, not daring to go anywhere _near _the mirror hanging on the wall. The memory of the dream still haunted my thoughts, and I tried to shove it away so I could focus on more important things … like today's agenda, for example.

_Training … ugh… _That was all I could say. Because just then, Darien's voice filled my room.

"Remi? Are you up yet, girl? Or do I have to send a fishing squad to hook you out of bed?"

Gliding over to my door, I pressed the button and said, "Yes, I'm awake." I paused, and then added, "Is the training session still today?"

"Unless you can convince Nightwing otherwise." Darien chuckled. "What are you afraid of, Remi? We won't bite … well, not on a first date."

"I'm not afraid." My voice had gone icy cold, monotone, and even though this was an absolute lie, it was more convincing than it would have been if he could see my face. "I'll see you in five, I guess." Leaving it at that, I smoothed down my hair once more and left my room.

I had no trouble finding the main room this time, and Greg didn't pop up to help me. Casually walking through the doors, I noticed many things simultaneously. Mom was up, as expected, and reading an old novel at the kitchen counter. She was absently stirring her herbal tea with one hand, rotating the spoon around the mug in slow, careful motions. The big TV was on, too, and channeled in to the News Report. Nightwing stood behind the couch, dressed for the day in his normal black and blue uniform, standing straight and with his arms crossed. He was facing the television, his back to me, and I wondered briefly if I'd ever see his face without the mask when I spotted two other heads on the other side of the red sofa.

I joined my mother at the kitchen counter, taking a stool as a seat, and began to make my own cup of tea. My mother was too deep in her book to acknowledge my presence, though I knew she was aware I had arrived. I dipped my tealeaves into the steaming cup of water and began to stir…

Words from the television were flowing across the quiet room, hitting my ears like the loud rush of river water.

"…It's still unclear as to how the combustion started, but Chief Emmett Jones of the Jump City Fire Department has announced a new investigation to open on the cause," the news lady was saying. "And though some witnesses claim that lightning is the most probable cause for this incident, world-known weather scientist Lawrence Abercrombie begs to differ. He stands by his belief that the storm occurring late last night was _not _an electrical storm, but merely a heavy rain. Though there can be no concurrence, these anonymous spectators can come up with only one argument: if there was no lightning, why was there thunder? Scientists are…"

"I agree with these 'anonymous spectators'," I heard Greg say, "If there was no lightning, how come we heard so much thunder last night?"

"Maybe it wasn't thunder?" Darien demanded.

"What else could it have been? A really loud party? Besides, did you _see _that hole in the roof? It was charred on the ends, melted right through the metal. If I had to guess, I'd say lightning, too."

"Well, I strongly oppose your opinion, my dear fellow. I probably know lightning better than anyone else in the world, even better than this Larry Applesauce weather dude. And it was _not _lightning that made that gap, believe me."

"I agree." For the first time, Nightwing joined in the conversation. "This situation seems a bit too suspicious to just ignore. We should check it out, ask some questions of our own."

Muting the TV with the remote control, Nightwing unexpectedly turned in my direction. "I'll need you to come with me."

I stared, waiting for the punch line, and then slowly began to realize that Nightwing was not looking at me. He was looking at my _mother._

"Are you up for it, Raven?" he asked her, grinning. Mom set down her book and replied with an even nod. "Then suit up. We'll go by flight, if that's okay. We'll get there faster."

"Mom?" I whispered. She looked at me then, and though I was trying my best to cover my feelings, I couldn't hide anything from a powerful empath like her. She could sense my concern, and in response she shot me a quick, reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. I've been doing this for a long time, remember?" she said, "And it's not as if we're rushing into battle. It's just an investigation."

I hesitated, but before anything else happened, the doors to the hall opened up and Syrus entered, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and his bangs covering half of his face. He looked annoyed, and a moment later I found out why. Jory was right behind him, chattering on endlessly and trying to get his attention. Her efforts were proving pointless, but I had to admit the scene was entertaining.

"Hey, Nightwing!" Syrus called, almost rudely, "Where're you off to in such a hurry? I thought we had training." That was when it hit me. If Nightwing and my mom weren't here, maybe the training session would be postponed! If I'm lucky, it might even get cancelled! I could avoid total humiliation!

"We'll continue with the original schedule when Raven and I return," Nightwing said, completely ruining my high spirits. He quickly explained to Jory and Syrus what was happening, then added that while they were gone, Cyborg was left in charge. He and Mom left the room together.

"Well, this sucks," Jory commented, pulling up a seat to the big dining table and leaning back in her chair. "Now I have to wait to kick Greg's butt."

"In your dreams," Greg retorted, and I realized he was walking towards me. Darien was by his side, and I could've sworn I saw him mouth the words, "You got lucky," as he passed me and entered the kitchen. Greg took my mother's former seat, his body facing me.

"I bet you're thrilled," he said sarcastically, observing my carefully blank expression.

"Oodles," I muttered, and he laughed. For some reason, that sent chills of satisfaction down my spine, and my heart did that little throb-skip thing again. I swallowed, wondering why that kept happening.

So suddenly did I realize I'd forgotten all about my tea. It was still sitting in front of me, my hands clasped around the mug's glass body. I took a sip; it was tepid.

"I still can't believe she doesn't have any stinkin' powers," Syrus growled. He had navigated his way through the room and was now leaning against the back of the couch with his arms crossed. He turned to me. "Oi! Wench! Be useful and make me some breakfast, will ya?"

I glared at him, my common response to this kind of situation. One look at me in angry mode, and the kids at school get spooked, running off shouting, "Goth Roth! Look out! She's gonna eat your brains!" until a teacher stopped them. I've gotten used to it by now.

But Syrus was different. When he caught my glare, he simply returned the favor, his silver eyes burning into mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Greg harden like a statue. Jory was sneering, and Darien was shuffling in the background, getting something to eat and paying no attention. I held my own in the staring contest until the doors opened yet again, distracting us. We both snapped our gazes away at the exact same moment Starfire and Cyborg entered the room. Well, Starfire more or less floated, but you get my point.

"Don't tell me we walked into another one of those 'teenager moments'?" Cyborg asked, noticing the looks on our faces. Starfire tilted her head, and it occurred to me that she probably didn't know what that meant. Was she mentally slow?

_That was mean. _

_Voice? Oh, I mean Knowledge. Or are you a new member to the Crazy Club? _

_It's Knowledge. Don't worry; I don't think you'll be getting any more emotions soon. That is, as long as you don't do anything drastic and life altering._

_It's difficult to get used to the prospect that you're never going to go _away_. Now I have no hope in life. _I scowled. _Actually, I never had hope in life. Ever._

_You did once … I remember when you were very little…_

"So, how are we going to pass the time?" Darien asked, and I almost jumped as reality came back to me. "We can't just sit around, doing nothing. Anyone up for some video games?"

"Oh, I will _cream_ you," Jory stated matter-of-factly. I could just imagine her flying high above Darien after she won, dropping her controller on top of his head, Syrus rolling his eyes in the background. It was becoming quite easier to picture scenes in my mind with these people in them. I must not give myself enough credit on my observation skills; I probably have all their personalities down in memory by now.

"Nightwing called me on the communicator," Cyborg stated, loud enough for all to hear. He was showing off a toothy grin, which probably meant he was loving the idea of being in charge. "He told me what's happening, so let me make one thing clear. No funny business."

He seemed serious enough, giving intense stares all around the room like it actually _did _something. I was curious to see what he would do if Jory and Darien suddenly got in another fight. But then he brightened again, and walked around us to the elevator. "If you need me, I'll be down in the garage," he added over his shoulder. Starfire followed Cyborg, her face only describable with one word: bright.

"I will be accompanying him," she stated, casting glances at her son and daughter. "Behave, please. I do not wish to ruin your day with a punishment, so let it not come to this." Like before, her words had the intention to be stern, but her tone just didn't pull it off. It sounded more like a praising than a warning. Starfire followed the half-robot into the elevator and they both vanished from sight as the doors closed.

Jory and thunder boy were already making their way to the TV when Syrus walked over. "Yo, Greg. Could you ask your incapable girlfriend to listen every once in a while? I said, get me some breakfast."

Girlfriend! Boy, was that going to come back and bite me in the ass later.

"Since when do I take orders from morons?" I demanded, using offense as defense.

"Since I decided you're nothing but a waste of space and time. You should've never come here. Nightwing was such an _idiot _to think the daughter of an incompetent Titan would be any better!"

Greg and I leapt to our feet at the exact same moment, both of us glowering with equal fury.

"Incompetent?" I repeated.

"Idiot?" Greg hissed. "The only idiot I see is standing three feet in front of me."

"And if he's not careful, he'll wake up tomorrow morning with a dagger sticking out of his chest." Whoa. Did I say that?

"Will you melodramatic losers shut up already?" Jory called from the couch, "I can hardly concentrate with Mr. and Mrs. Bicker-pants."

"Mr. and Mrs. what?" Greg challenged.

"You heard me… Hey, you can't do that!" A loud screeching noise filled the room, followed by a booming explosion.

"Obviously, I can," Darien snickered, "You better stay out of my way, or I'll do it again! Oh, and maybe you haven't heard yet, but I demolished the high score. See if you can beat _that!_"

"Try me."

Well, that's video games, for ya.

My eyes never left Syrus throughout the whole conversation, and even as he traipsed around me into the kitchen, my expression was still hard. I got the feeling that all my good humor would be wiped clean away whenever this guy comes around. _Mental note: Stay clear of Syrus on good days… And on bad days, carry eggs in case the urge to chuck something at him becomes overwhelming. _

A few minutes passed, and I tried drinking some more of my tea. Darien and Jory were on the second to last lap in their race, Greg had picked up my mom's book and was now skimming through it, and Syrus was rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Greg, dude, will you _please _tell your mom to stop making Tamaranian pork chops," he complained, pulling out a tray of bright pink meat that looked like it was about to explode. I cringed away from the smell, and Syrus held his nose with his free hand.

"It's not pork chops. It's Gnarr del Blaccion … a very famous dish on Tamaran," defended Greg. "You should probably be honored she even knows the recipe."

"I'm just grateful she only makes it once a year, but even _that's _too often."

"She makes it on Teri Vokia'r."

"What?"

"You know, Day for Eating?"

"Like Mardi Gras?"

"Exactly. There's also another big holiday coming up. I shouldn't have to mention it, but since you're so keen on ignoring my heritage…"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your culture to yourself, will ya? I'm getting' a headache already." Syrus went to put the displeasing dish back in the fridge, though it seemed like he wanted to dump it down the trash.

There were a couple things bugging me.

"What's Tamaran?" I asked, my curiosity overpowering me again.

"It's where my mother came from before she found her way to Earth," Greg answered. "In case you didn't notice, she's a little … different."

"No kidding," Syrus derided. Greg cast a brief glare in his direction before continuing.

"See, Starfire is an alien. A Tamaranian. Everyone on her planet is super strong and has the ability to fly, which I suppose you've already guessed." I nodded, wondering if Knowledge was writing any of this down. "Yeah, well, she can do even _more_ than that. She has this neat power to create starbolts, which are glowing orbs of radioactivity that can make one heck of a Fourth of July. They come from her hands and eyes."

Starbolts? Hmm … I wonder…

"Her powers are inheritable." It wasn't really a question.

Greg nodded, confirming my theory. "Jory got her flight, I got her strength, and we _both _got her starbolts." He grinned, holding up his left hand, clenching it tight. And right before my eyes, his fist started to glow a bright, crimson red.

The same blood-colored glow from last night.

Greg was the demon.

_I thought that was an hallucination from suffocating? _I mused, carefully keeping the shock from my face. _But it was actually _him? _This is unreal. _So Greg could make starbolts, and he must've shot them at Syrus last night when water boy attacked me. That would explain a lot. And they were red, the same color as his magnificent eyes. Suddenly, I recalled the moment after dinner last night, when Darien and Jory were arguing. Jory's eyes had glowed blue… Did that mean her starbolts were blue, too? If it was all connected, were Starfire's bolts green?

The pieces were starting to fall in place.

"Why did Starfire and Darien call Jory, 'Bluefire'?" I asked abruptly. Greg seemed startled by the random question, and he slowly put his bolt out – whatever that means.

"It's … complicated…" he started, but Syrus – who had apparently invited himself into the conversation – interrupted.

"It ain't complicated, Greg! That girl just hates her nickname, and that's that."

"Maybe so, but…" Greg's expression suddenly darkened.

"'But'? What's there to 'but' about?"

"Why is that her nickname?" I prompted, trying to stay on course. I lowered my voice, too, very aware that the person we were discussing was in the same room as us. Luckily, she was too engrossed in the video game to consume our words.

"Why?" Greg reaffirmed, and I nodded. "Well, there's a reason her name is a bit rare. My dad's human, therefore he has a human name – one that he made me swear not to tell anyone, so don't even ask – but my mother has a Tamaranian name."

"Starfire." I had to admit; the name was interesting, but it most definitely was _not _normal.

"Yes. But that's the English translation. In her native language, her name is Koriand'r. Now, when I was born, my parents wanted me to have a human name because I looked so much like my dad…"

"Thus he was dubbed the great Gregory Grayson!" Syrus chimed, his mouth pulled up in the first real smirk I ever saw on his face. Greg went to nudge him in the arm with his fist, but the blond boy swiftly avoided the blow.

"Yeah, anyway, when I was two and a half, my mom got pregnant again, and by the time I was three, I had a little sister. She looked more like Starfire, so they decided to even the odds out a bit and give her a Tamaranian name." Here Greg paused, and I spotted a meaning in his eyes that was immediately identified as hesitation. There was something he didn't want to share, something that he probably never even told Syrus or the others. A secret.

I hate secrets.

"Her full first name is Joriand'r, and if translated into English, it becomes –"

"Bluefire."

"You got it."

I pondered on this for a moment, and the room fell silent save for the constant racket of the game and the backbiting of its players. So now I knew everyone's powers and a little bit of each of their pasts: Greg and Jory Grayson, alien-human hybrids with jumbled abilities; Syrus Ivitork, water-controlling Atlantian with family issues; Darien Stone, electric boy adopted into the world of the Titans.

Where do I fit in? Well, I'm just the powerless girl hiding in the shadow of her strong-minded Titan mother, not belonging anywhere in particular – especially not here. So how on Earth is this situation going to work out?

_It's gonna be a long summer. _

_Aw, don't feel too bad, Remi. I'm sure in a week or so, you'll have a place among the Titans just as much as anyone else._

_Save it for someone who cares, brainiac, _I muttered.

_But you do care, _Knowledge pointed out, _Otherwise, we wouldn't be talking about it. _

_No, we wouldn't be talking about it if you didn't exist. But apparently, I had to go and ruin that for me when that s-spike ran me through… _I mentally stammered over the words, but I could feel it was getting easier to mention.

I thought I heard Knowledge sigh, but before it had a chance to reply, I was on my feet.

"Where are you headed off to?" Greg asked.

"Since Nightwing and my mom might be gone for a while," I answered monotonously, "it seems like now is the best time for me to explore the Tower a bit. Get to know the passages and stairs and stuff."

"I can show you around," the black-haired boy offered, standing from his seat also. "I know a couple of short-cuts, and –"

"No thanks," I stated curtly. "I'd rather go by myself."

"Are you sure?" he pressed, looking a bit disappointed. "You won't find anyone who knows the Tower better than me. I mean, I grew up in this place!"

"Just tell me when Nightwing returns." I slid away from the counter, leaving the room in a matter of seconds. My pace was quick, but when I succeeded in being alone, I gradually slowed my speed. That lame excuse for checking out the tower almost didn't work. I had absorbed so much information, and being around the others with Knowledge chattering about in my head, the line between craziness and my sanity was growing pretty thin. I had to get away … at least for a little while.

Now that I think about it, a solitary tour throughout the Tower _would _be something to pass the time with. And so I set off.

* * *

I started with the top floor, the level with the main room. A hallway broke off in three directions, and I recalled that one led to my room. Another led to my mother's, and then there was a bathroom and a staircase.

It felt like I passed a hundred doors, went up a thousand steps, and down a million corridors a trillion times before things finally started to make some sense. I came across a locked room (locked because it looked locked, not because I checked) on the floor below mine with the name "Gregory" on the front. As I walked along, I noted his neighbor was Jory, and after that was Nightwing and Starfire's room. I wish I brought a piece of paper with me so I could map out my own paths. Then I remembered.

_Knowledge? You there? _I asked.

No answer.

_I'm not stupid, _I muttered, rolling my eyes inwardly, _I know you're there. You always are._

A sigh. _And what would Your Highness like to discuss? To tell you the truth, I was trying to read a book._

_I have a question… Wait, there are books up in my mind? How…?_

_A conversation for another time, Remi. Now, what is it?_

I hesitated, using this time to go down a short flight of stairs. _Well, I was _hoping _you were paying attention to where I was in the Tower, and since you're my all-knowing intelligence who "supposively" remembers everything that happens to me –_

_Now, now. Let's not get odious here._

_Whatever. I just thought you might remind me later on where to go if I get lost in this place. _I studied the name of another door as I walked by. It was Cyborg's room. Next to it was Darien's, and then Syrus's. _This tower is a freaking maze!_

_I noticed. And yes, I was paying attention. I always am, because – like you so politely said just moments ago – "I'm always here." _

_So … is this a Yes, or…?_

_Yes, it is a Yes. I can memorize the passages as long as you become a little bit familiar with them._

_Simple enough. _

_You're welcome._

_I know. _I smirked, glad I finally found a decent benefit that could come out of having a voice in my head: unlimited access to my memory. Goodbye, little red string tied around my finger. _You can go back to your book now._

_I've lost my interest. I already read it five hundred million times, and after a while the encyclopedia just starts to lose it's glow._

_Uh-huh…_

I wandered down to the second floor, counting four long levels so far, and came across a nearly abandoned hallway. It seemed as if nobody used these rooms for a long time, like they were an old part of the building that grew forgotten and useless over time. I remembered overhearing something in Cyborg and Nightwing's conversation during dinner last night. Most of it was machine this and engine that, a bunch of mechanical mumbo-jumbo, but I distinctly heard Nightwing mention something about the Tower being remodeled. Since the Titans have expanded to the next generation, I suppose they needed a larger place to live.

So where was I? The land of the past? What secrets could I possibly dig up on this floor alone? I received a sudden blast of undeniable nosiness, and my itches had to be scratched. I stepped forward.

The first room was Starfire's old dorm, the sign on the door a bright pink and yellow. I cracked it open a tiny bit, hearing the creaking noises float all around my head like a scary part in a horror movie. The inside was almost similar to how my room looked: a slight dip in the middle, a window at the side, a round bed in the center. But the décor was completely opposite to mine. Bright pinks and purples filled the walls with vibrant color even in the darkness, for the light bulbs had been removed from their places in the ceiling. Probably for energy-saving purposes. White sheets covered all the furniture to protect it from dust and such.

It didn't take long for me to realize that this must have been Starfire's room when she was a teenager, possibly my age. Funny thing was, I could actually _see _her in this room, bubbly and flying around with reasonless joy. It was just the type of person she was, and still is.

I moved on to the next room, and found it labeled "Robin" with black and red lettering. This confused me. There wasn't a Robin in the original Teen Titans. At least, not that I know of. Mom told me there were five in the beginning, but as far as I know, I've only met four. Nightwing, Raven, Starfire, Cyborg… could this Robin have been the fifth Teen Titan?

I tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. I pushed harder, but the thing must have been reinforced with steel or something. My guess? It was locked a really long time ago, and the bolts rusted over with age. I quickly gave up and moved on.

Next was Cyborg's old room. I could tell even before I read his name; the door was taller than the others. No mystery here. When I peeked inside, it was darker than normal, almost pitch-black. I realized this was because he had no window. Why…? Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. It's in his past. I glimpsed some sort of mechanical cord dangling from a box nearby before I left.

Turning the corner, I smiled to myself. The next room was my mother's, the name "Raven" written in solid black on her door. This was what I truly desired to see, ever since I discovered this floor. What was Mom like as a teenager? Would I be able to unlock some truths just by this room alone? It was time to find out.

I poked my head in, noting how all the furniture was covered in blank sheets like in Starfire's room. Luckily, there was a curtain-less window, so the room was barely dark at all.

Well, not really.

The walls were painted a deep, deep blue, so dark it looked black. The room looked like it belonged to a Goth, or even an Emo. A witch, maybe. Was this really how Mom was like? It didn't fit the profile I had of her, not since I was a very little girl. Around me, she seemed so normal, so selfless and strong. The question remained; is this who she was, or who she still is? I reminded myself that she was different, just like me. She told me so on the night I healed myself, just a few days ago. She was more like me than even I could imagine.

It almost brought tears to my eyes.

Almost.

I quietly slipped out of the dorm and decided to move on to the last door. This one would be Nightwing's old room. It was the only option left; all the others I've looked at already. I started to get excited at seeing what a teenage Nightwing's room would look like, to see what kind of things he was into as an adolescent.

Imagine my surprise when I saw the name on the door.

"BB?" I said, reading out loud with the utmost confusion. Who the Hell was BB? How did five Teen Titans suddenly become six? Or am I getting this completely wrong? Too curious to help myself, I entered the strange room.

This room was different than the others by far. For one thing, the furniture hadn't been covered. It was open to the air, and covered in many thick layers of dust. And something else: the room was an absolute _pigsty! _And I'm not exaggerating on this, I swear to God. Everywhere I looked, it was a mess. A bunk bed was on the far side of the room, but it was barely visible under a huge heap of clothes. To the left was a closet that seemed to overflow with random junk, and next to me was a lopsided dresser. One of its legs was missing.

I flicked on the light switch and was startled when the room actually brightened. Why didn't they remove the bulb from _this _room? Come to think of it, why didn't they do _anything _to try and clean it up? It looked like someone just up and left this place, and never came back, leaving it exactly how it was the last time they were here. Was this the case?

When the light touched the walls, I noticed that they were painted a deep forest green. Now I really felt like I was in a jungle, surrounded by wilderness. I stayed still for a few minutes, just staring all around me and absorbing this in. For a moment, I thought about exploring, but I was afraid of what I might find. Because not only were the walls green, but they were also plastered with many, _many _inappropriate pictures of women. I was scared I might find a porno magazine or something. I didn't need to be scarred for life right now, thank you.

I made the decision to just leave, preferably as quickly as possible. I thought briefly about mentioning Robin and "BB" to my mother when something suddenly caught my eye. There was something propped up on the dresser next to me, facing the other direction. It was a picture frame.

My hopes suddenly rose. Maybe it was a picture of whoever this BB character was, or perhaps a group photo of the entire team. Almost eagerly, I grabbed the frame and spun it around.

My heart sank into my stomach, but not for the reason you may think. It wasn't disappointment, because there was indeed a picture in the frame. It was the photo _itself _that suddenly transformed me into a nervous wreck. I held up the image so carefully you'd think it was made of glass instead of wood, and I examined it closer with eyes of pure disbelief.

There were two people, stationed right here in this room. A boy and a girl, both maybe a little older than Greg or Darien. Nineteen … perhaps twenty years old. The boy had his arm wrapped around the girl's shoulders, the other one held up to hold the camera as he took the photo of them both. The girl was leaning into him, one hand on his chest, the other around his back. Her head was tucked affectionately under his chin, and she was smiling. The boy looked like he was laughing.

Thing is, I knew the girl in the photo. I _knew _her hair, her skin, her face … her smile…

It was my mom.

* * *

**A/N – Ooohhh… drama… Sorry for updating so late after promising you I was done with delays. Can you find it in your hearts to pwetty pwease forgive me? If not, I'll have to whip up my ultimate puppy dog eyes of innocence. **

**I'll be updating **_**very soon**_**, and this time I mean it. There's no way I'm going to keep you waiting on this chapter. I'll bet a million bucks you're all dying to know the story behind Raven and "mystery man". Well, maybe not so much of a mystery anymore..**

**- random -**


	11. Phenomenon

My Life

Chapter Eleven: _Phenomenon_

_This is impossibly, unbelievably wrong._

_How so?_

_Well, for one thing, Mom isn't the girlfriend type. At all. I mean, as long as I've known her, she's never been in a relationship with anybody._

_Who's to say she couldn't have one in her past? As far as you know, this mystery man could quite possibly be –_

_Don't say it._

_I'm just suggesting that –_

_I know what you're suggesting, and I don't want to hear it. Can't you see I'm in shock? I need a moment to absorb all of this. To say it makes it all the more …_

_Real? True?_

_No. Terrifying._

_Why would you be afraid of your –_

_Don't –_

– _father?_

_Oh, God. See? See what you did? You had to go and say it, didn't you? Now I can't stop shaking._

_Relax, Remi. Open your mind up a little and you'll understand –_

_Will you just shut up for one stinking second and let me think? Geez._

As you can probably tell by now, I wasn't exactly in a listening mood. Sitting in the fetal position by the foot of my bed, rocking gently back and forth with the photograph in hand and looking at it with a gaze as wide and frightful as a deer in headlights, I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Well, who wouldn't be if you found what I just found? Learned what I just learned? All these years, and not once have I received a clue as to who my – well, you know – might possibly be. And now, all of a sudden, a possible key to open all the locked doors and unleash all the answers to my many questions just happens to find its way into my world.

And here I am, holding it like it was a bomb about to explode.

For the past twenty minutes, I've been staring at it, observing every tiny detail and storing it into my brain for Knowledge to scan over. So far, I've ascertained quite a lot of new information.

The Raven in the picture is certainly my mother, only younger. I can do the math, too. This picture was taken roughly around the year before I was born. My mom at the time of my birth was twenty-one years old.

She had flat, violet hair just above her shoulders – longer than it is today, but shorter than my own style. Something caught my attention, and my gaze trailed to her forehead. A tiny red diamond-shaped mark was in the dead center of her forehead, perfectly placed and absolutely symmetrical. With that touch, she didn't quite look like my mother. She looked like a stranger from India. However, her eyes were the same as they are now, even if her features were more defined. She had curves then that she no longer has now. And her skin was as ashen as ever.

After a long time looking Mom over, I reluctantly decided to move on to the unidentified man. And what I saw left me more than surprised.

Originally I thought, back in that old and abandoned bedroom of Hell, it was a trick in the lighting reflecting the color of the walls onto the photograph. But then I came to realize that it was no trick. The man's flesh was _green. _I can't really explain it any better than that, but what first seemed like an interesting tan was now defined as a bizarre and unfeasible skin tone.

Pretty soon, I realized that not only was his skin green, but also his hair … and his eyes, too. Though squinted from the strength of his laughing smile, I could still see the shades of emerald circling his dark pupils. And his hair, a complete spiked disaster, was a deep forest. What was that in his mouth? A … fang? Suddenly, I couldn't help but notice that his canines, both top and bottom, were exceedingly sharper than normal.

Okay. Did my mother date an alien or something? No offense to Starfire and her kind, but seriously. A _green guy? _How in the heck did she find any interest in him?

Slowly … _very _slowly … the panic began to ebb out of my system. I even felt like smiling as I recognized one big, important factor in all of this:

If this BB fellow was indeed my … gulp … _dad, _then why, may I inquire, am I not green as well? In fact, I don't have a single thing in common with him! Not one! My hair is dark and silky straight, not a green, sloppy mess. My eyes are blue-violet, like my mother's, and my skin is a soft, pale tone. It contrasted greatly with BB's deep grassy hue.

I started to compare every little detail of his with mine, and a surge of relief continually washed over me with each and every one. His nose was wide with big nostrils; mine was sleek and narrow. His eyebrows were rather bushy; mine were neat and slender. Even his fingers were shaped differently than my own.

His ears were … pointy? _Wha…? _Could this guy get any weirder? First he's green, than he's toothy, and now he's elf-eared, too? What in the world could his power have possibly been? He must've been good if he was a member of the original Teen Titans, or they wouldn't have let him join, right?

God, this was getting uber confusing. Yes, I said uber.

An abrupt, loud noise made me jump halfway to the clouds, but then I realized someone was knocking at my door. "Who is it?" I demanded, my voice clearly uninviting. I kind of wanted a little more alone time. The last thing I needed was a curious visitor.

"Get your ass out here, new girl. I don't have all day."

_Oh … no … _Please, Lord, anybody but her. Why? Why did she have to come right _now? _Right when I was exposed?

"What do you want, Jory?" I challenged.

"What do you think, dipstick?" the girl snarled. She was in a bad mood, and for some reason I felt responsible for causing it. "Nightwing and Raven are back and they're discussing what happened down at the warehouse. Now hurry up so I don't miss anything important!"

Instantly, I scrambled down to the floor and raced over to my wardrobe. Pulling out a shoebox, I dumped the contents that were already inside onto my floor and softly placed the frame inside. Then I slid it under my bed and dashed back across the room. Taking a moment to fix my hair and face, I opened the door.

Jory was scowling at me. And not in the playful "You-Are-So-Late-Oh-My-Gawd" manner. It was the "Waste-One-More-Second-Of-My-Time-And-I'm-Gonna-Kick-Your-Ass" type of scowl. I ignored her and started down the hallway towards the main room.

"What the Hell took you so long?" Jory bitched, striding next to me. Her feet were practically stomping into the ground with irritation. "I was waiting out there for, like, forever and you just come strolling out like you own the place."

I said nothing, hoping she would just drop it and fly ahead of me. She'd probably get to the briefing faster that way. But she wouldn't leave me alone. Not today.

"God, you're slow. I can't _believe_ I had to come and fetch you like some sort of dog. You aren't worth everyone's time, and yet you seem to be getting everyone's attention, you know that? Well, newsflash! I don't like it one bit."

_Like I care what you think._

"And now I'm going to miss out on what happened with the investigation. Nightwing never sent me out on a patrol before, just 'cause I'm fourteen and 'too vulnerable.'" She made air quotes with her fingers and her voice went all high and whiny, probably referring to Starfire. Suddenly, I felt extreme respect for the Tamaranian; the fact that she can even put up with this nightmarish daughter of hers just makes her all the more stronger.

"It's 'too dangerous' for someone as young as me. The disastrous trio of dumbasses get to go out, though, and Greg even got to fight some guy robbing a store! Sure, he got praise then, but just wait and see. I'll be better than him, and his smug little sidekick. Then, Syrus will finally notice me, and my mom will stop being so stupid and…"

She stopped. Hallelujah! She finally realized that she was rambling!

Apparently, she had said too much, more than she meant to, and now she looked angry with herself. Angry and threatened, perhaps with the suspicion that I might relay all of this to Greg or Nightwing, maybe even Syrus. Who knows? Maybe I will.

She stepped in front of me, and I halted.

"Speak one word of what I just said to _anyone…_" Jory left the threat open, to let me imagine what she could possibly do to me in an act of vengeance. Her eyes were like her name – blue fire – and the deepest of snarls was forming around her lips. She was a predator, and I was the prey.

Suddenly, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"Gee, Jory. I didn't realize we were in the 'sharing secrets' stage of our relationship. I'm touched." I smirked sardonically, flicking my all-too-innocent-looking eyes up from my shoes to her face. In a split second, I had gone from defense to offense, a switch I rarely made. And something in my cold, hard gaze must have stirred a tiny ounce of alarm in Jory. She hesitated, taken aback by my sudden sentiment.

"I don't think you quite fully understand, new girl," she muttered through gritted teeth. I could tell she was having a hard time controlling her temper.

"I understand _fine, _thank you very much," I retorted, "And let me get one thing straight with you, now that we're on such wonderful terms with each other." I took a step closer, right in her face. Our fists, both hers and mine, clenched unconsciously. I wanted to say so much to her right at this very moment. I wanted to tell her that Syrus thinks she's a pain in the ass, and that her mother shouldn't waste her time on her but does so anyway out of love. But most of all, I wanted to scream out the fact that she was being an annoying, pesky little Miss Complains-A-Lot! _Errgh!_

I paused, contemplating, then let out three short words with more loathing, more _disgust,_ than I've ever said before:

"I. Don't. _Care_."

Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor, and I stepped around her to continue down the corridor. For once my head was held high, my gaze dead straight ahead. Victory music was practically ringing in my ears, and I couldn't help but smirk. Take _that, _you conniving, controlling bitch.

I could feel Knowledge ready to reprimand me, so I quickly shut it out of my mind before it got the chance. I didn't expect it to actually work, but somehow I managed to put up an invisible wall between my emotion and myself, locking it out – for the moment, at least. Huh. I didn't think that was possible, but apparently it was. Now my mood lifted even more. I wasn't thinking of the photograph, or about the training I'll have to endure in a short while. My mind was free! No more annoying voice causing me paranoia! And Jory … the _look _on her _face!_

Priceless.

I didn't hear her following me. Then again, I might not be able to. Jory could fly, after all.

But she didn't come after me, because I entered the main room unescorted. That's when I found myself in the company of five other people. My mother was standing with perfect posture at the end of the beautiful mahogany dining table, talking quietly with Starfire. Darien, Syrus, and Greg were chatting on the red sofa, all of them seeming pretty serious. Nightwing and Cyborg were nowhere in sight. Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at me upon my arrival.

But my eyes were on Mom. She looked completely different from the woman who sat and drank tea with me this morning. Her easy, soft-fitted white shirt and dress pants were traded in for more of a theatrical appeal, one I never would have imagined her wearing until today. Suddenly, she looked _extremely_similar to a certain girl in a certain picture.

A _very _dark blue cloak settled over her shoulders, flowing down to a flat stop just above her ankles - she sported black leather boots, as far as I could tell. The hood was up, concealing almost all of her face from sight, shrouding it in the shadows. She technically wasn't facing me, rather turned away from me, so I couldn't see the rest of her outfit. Taking her entire figure in, I realized she reminded me of a monk, someone at the head of a religious sect.

The memory of my mother's old bedroom flashed to the front of my mind. The sharp designs, the creepy dolls, the strange, paranormal items I saw on her shelves … and now this. Was Mom really … a Goth?

A bit ironic, considering my nickname. But I still couldn't accept it.

Mom. A Goth. An Emo. A Freak with a capital _F_.

Well.

"Remi, glad you could make it!" Darien announced, breaking through my reverie. It was evident sarcasm, because I had obviously missed the entire meeting. I shrugged, acting like I didn't care when really my curiosity was flaring.

I met all five of their gazes, and saw something different in each one. Starfire looked rather upset over something – was there an accident during the investigation? Did Nightwing get hurt? Nah, that couldn't be it. There would have been an emergency alarm or something. Mom didn't appear ruffled, but she didn't look reassured either. She had taken on her emotionless façade again. Greg looked worried, his perfect red eyes fixed on his mother. Syrus was the complete opposite, looking more animated than I've ever seen him be – excited, even. And Darien was just … Darien. He didn't appear affected by whatever was happening.

Trying to seem nonchalant, I approached the guys and took a seat next to Greg, folding my hands in my lap.

"Hello," I said, and Greg looked at me as if he just realized I existed. "Mind if I ask what I missed?"

"Where's Jory?" Darien replied, ignoring my words. It was kind of annoying, so I shot the boy a mean glare.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Why?" Syrus sneered.

I turned my cold stare on him. "Because she left without saying good-bye," I retorted tersely. "Now will my question be answered or not?"

"What was your question?" Greg asked truthfully, and my stomach fell into a pit. One day's passed, and already I'm becoming invisible. Well, at least invisibility is better than a big fat "BULLY ME" sign on my back.

"What. Did. I. Miss?" I repeated, losing my patience. "Something obviously happened while I was in my room, so please. Divulge."

"Oh. Well, you'll never guess what Nightwing found at the warehouse!" exclaimed Darien, but Greg unexpectedly shushed him. I saw him glance at Starfire, who looked more anxious than ever, and now I _had_ to know.

"What?" I prompted when he didn't continue right away.

Darien lowered his voice and said, "There certainly was a huge hole in the roof of the building, I'll tell you that. And at first, there was no sign that pointed towards it _not _begin caused by lightning."

"But then Nightwing found a piece of weird-looking metal in the debris," Syrus punched in, "He didn't think it was a match to the rest of the melted metal from the roof."

"So there's only one other explanation." Darien paused, as if to build suspense. All it did was make me angry.

"Something had to have crashed into the warehouse!" clarified Syrus, "It makes perfect sense!"

"Sure, it makes sense," I said sarcastically, "Because tiny pieces of weird metal fall from the sky during thunderstorms quite often these days."

"You have no idea," Darien uttered, smirking knowingly. He crossed his arms and nodded. "Yep. Something definitely fell from the sky, and I'm betting whatever it was waited until the perfect moment to make its entrance. Think about it." His eyes went alight as he conveyed. "We all heard cracks last night, but nobody claims to have seen lightning – and lighting _makes_ thunder! So something else must have made that noise. Something _else _must have struck the warehouse and left its mark."

I thought about it, like he said. And the more I did, the more I was caught between rational and irrational reasons. Sure, if something fell and caused that rumbling in the sky, that would explain a whole lot. But to be logical, what in the heck would fall from the sky in the first place?

"You said that … whatever fell had 'waited' until the precise moment?" I pressed, raising an eyebrow with skepticism. "How could something 'wait' to fall?"

"There's more life out there than humans and Tamaranians, Remi," Syrus scoffed. "It was probably another alien ship making a journey to Earth as inconspicuously as possible. What better time to do it than during a large storm?"

Well, when you put it that way…

"So, what's Nightwing going to do about it?" I questioned, "Where is he now?"

"He's in his lab with Cyborg, doing some tests to try and figure out what the heck the metal alloy is," Darien answered. "Once they know that, they'll take the next step and try to find whoever doesn't belong out there. We don't yet know if they're a danger to Earth or not. This might turn into an alien invasion."

"An alien invasion?" I mocked, "Isn't that a bit farfetched, Darien?"

"Not in my books, nope."

I fell silent, and surprisingly so did the others. It was then I realized Greg hadn't said a single word into this conversation, and he was still watching his mother. I turned my attention on Starfire as well, observing the increase in her stress level. She was constantly pulling her fingers through her red-ginger hair, and I saw her biting her lip. My mother was still talking to her.

"What's the matter with Starfire?" I inquired, hoping I wouldn't strike a nerve with Greg.

He sighed drearily, turning to look at me. I saw confusion, and even sadness, mixed in his eyes. His black brows knitted together in a face of worry. "I'm … not really sure. She's been like this ever since Nightwing showed her the metal, but she won't speak a word as to what's bothering her."

"Do you think she recognized it?" I suggested. "Maybe she knows who came down from the stars."

"Raven's trying to get some answers out of her," Greg explained, "But no luck so far. I've never seen her like this before."

I looked at him then, and was suddenly caught up in his gaze. It entrapped me, and for a moment I couldn't look away. "Well, if it's any condolence, I've never seen my mother dressed like that before."

He grinned, making my stomach flutter, and I quickly looked away before a blush crept up on me. I couldn't go red in the face twice in a row while he's around, or he might get the wrong idea.

_Oh my God, _gasped Knowledge, putting me on the alert.

_What? _I asked hastily. _What is it? What's wrong?_

_Nothing's wrong, Remi! This is great news!_

_Tell me! I don't like being left in the dark, and you know that._

There was a pause of sheer doom, and then:

_You like Greg._

My mouth threatened to drop open, but I quickly caught myself before I looked like a complete fool. _WHAT?_

_You liiiike him. You wanna kiiiiiiss him._

_Are you insane? Do you think I'm stupid enough to fall for your antics? I do _not _like Greg! _I mentally crossed my arms like a stubborn child.

Knowledge sighed, and I imagined it shaking its head back and forth. _I know you better than _you _know you, Remi. And trust me on this. You. Like. Greg._

_Don't make me block you from my mind again._

_Greeeeg and Reeeeemi, sitting in a treeeeee…_ It started to sing, and I became furious.

_Knowledge… _I threatened, scowling on both the outside and the inside.

_K-I-S-S-I-N-_

_Finish that line and so help me I will bang my head against a wall until you shut up. You wouldn't want me to hurt myself, now would you, smart-ass?_

No reply. Good. I'm glad I knocked some sense into that annoying voice of mine, because no matter what devilish scandal it may think up, I do _not _like Greg. Not like that. I don't have the luxury of carrying those type of emotions, believe me. It's impossible.

"Remi, are you okay?" Darien asked, and instantly I snapped out of it to see myself cross-armed and scowling at … nothing in particular. "You look like you were trying to set the floor on fire with your eyes," he laughed.

I stood, exasperated and suddenly disliking my desire to look Greg directly in the eye. What the Hell was going on today?

I wanted to go back to my room for the rest of the day and just relax, maybe stare at the picture some more, but I didn't get far when the doors opened. Nightwing entered, followed by Cyborg and – believe it or not – Jory. Everyone turned to look at them while the pumpkin-haired girl shot me a quick, malice-filled glare.

I officially made an enemy for life with that one.

"What did you find out?" Raven asked, her voice interested. She lifted partially gloved hands to remove her hood, and I was unsurprised to see the same red diamond mark on her forehead. Only I realized now that it wasn't a mark, but a tiny gem attached to her skin.

"Inconclusive," Nightwing sighed, clearly aggravated.

Cyborg shook his bionic head from side to side and muttered, "My tests should've been able to identify the alloy!"

"Maybe it's a metal we haven't come across yet?" suggested Greg.

"Maybe … it's not a metal at all?" Syrus added, sounding stupid. I scoffed, regretting it instantly – eight heads turned towards me expectantly.

"If it's not a metal, what else could it be?" I said, filling the sudden quiet.

"Maybe a meteor rock?" Jory recommended, coming to Syrus's side as suspected. "Or a type of stone?"

"Okay, you guys are just pulling crap out of a hat now," Darien barked. He turned to his adoptive father. "Maybe we should run the tests again, just to be sure?"

"I already ran them twice. Nothing." Cyborg looked just about ready to kick a hole in the wall. A rather big hole.

"Could I see it again, please?"

I was surprised to hear Starfire's voice so quiet, like she was in a weak and shaken state of mind. Nightwing, his face softening, nodded and pulled out of his silver utility belt a small piece of something twisted and deformed, singed at the edges like it was ripped from something much bigger. He walked over and held it out for his wife to get a good look at.

"It looks like Iron," Jory whispered, coming up next to her father to peer closer at the object. I walked closer, too.

Starfire lifted her slender, elegant hands and swept her fingers over the metal, touching it as gently as a feather. As she stared, her emerald eyes slowly began to widen; pretty soon, they were ready to pop out of her head, and her lower lip was trembling.

"Starfire…?" Nightwing asked, and his voice was laced with worry. He set a hand on her shoulder, and instantly her eyes snapped to his face. Now her hands were trembling.

"It's…" she whispered, barely audible. Now everyone was freaking out – what was making her act this way? Was she afraid?

Mom suddenly raised her hand and placed it on Starfire's right temple. I took a step forward, curious and worried all at once. The others began to crowd around as well. My mother's eyes glowed a pure white, and her lips barely moved as she mumbled three unfamiliar words.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

Immediately, Starfire ceased in her quivers, and her eyes returned to normal. She sighed and turned to her friend, smiling slightly. "Thank you, Raven," she said, and as Mom's eyes faded to normality again, I was more confused than ever.

"What did you just do?" I asked my mom.

"Her fear was overwhelming. Any longer, and she could have had a mental breakdown." Mom placed her raised hand on the Tamaranian's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "I simply helped her calm down by taking away the panic."

"You can do that?"

She nodded.

"Good thinking," Nightwing conceded, and then to his wife he said, "What is it, Starfire? You obviously know something about the metal."

"Yes," the woman nodded. She briefly looked around, at the crowd of people surrounding her. She leaned in closer to Nightwing's ear, as if it would help muffle their conversation. "I'm not sure I should say in front of the children. It's about … _that_."

Nightwing darkened with recognition, and after a few moments of pondering, he suddenly turned to Cyborg. "Take the metal back to the lab and secure it safely," he ordered, giving the half-robot the chunk. Cyborg took it and left without a word. When the doors closed behind him, the Titan leader turned to us.

"Well, what do you think you're all doing?" he questioned, crossing his arms. I raised an eyebrow while the others exchanged befuddled looks. "Don't you have a training session to get on?" he prompted.

I groaned inwardly. Great. This day went from scary to interesting and back to scary. Even more, I wouldn't find out what the heck Starfire was talking about! Mom came up and speedily began to usher us towards the elevator, where I really felt like running away and never coming back.

Could it get any worse?

* * *

The staff came down fast, and I held in a squeal as my eyes shut closed. Prepared to feel pain cracking through my skull, I was surprised when it didn't arrive. A couple seconds passed before I risked peeking out, and I saw the end of the red-painted rod mere inches from the top of my head.

"What did I just say, Remi?" Nightwing queried, and I sighed while Darien pulled back his staff.

"Try to block it," I repeated, angry with myself for – one, looking like an idiot in front of everyone who's opinions matter – two, knowing absolutely nothing about martial arts to begin with – and three, thinking I could actually survive my first training session.

I shook my head and gripped my staff tighter, until my pale knuckles turned white. "You might as well send me home now, Nightwing," I mumbled, "I'm never gonna get this."

"Aw, don't get down, Remi!" Darien reassured to no prevail, "You just need to practice. Nobody believes you to get it on the first day."

"Thanks for the moral support."

"You just have to build up your strength," Nightwing added.

"But I'm not the physical type," I argued, "I suck at sports, let alone sparring."

"That doesn't matter," Nightwing said confidently from the side of the platform. "Anyone can learn this if they put effort into it."

"Yeah," Darien cheered, "So c'mon, girl! Let's see some E for Effort! Bring it!"

"E for Effort?" I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah! You know, like a cheerleader."

"Do I _look _like a cheerleader to you?"

"Well…"

"Less chattin', more whackin'!" I heard Jory yell from her seat on the benches.

I took a deep breath and ungracefully fell into the starting stance, the first thing Nightwing taught. Darien mimicked me. We were positioned on opposite sides of large rectangular platform in the southern section of the training area, which happens to be on the opposite bank of the beach. This island just kept on surprising me.

Mom and Starfire stood behind a long control panel to my left, watching intently. Starfire seemed to have brightened considerably since last I saw her – she was smiling and getting into the training whole-heartedly. And she had changed her clothes, too, sporting what I assumed was her hero costume. A light lavender shirt flowed over her top half, leaving open the space around her stomach. A skirt of identical color and material came down to above her knees, and she wore high boots with the same color but a darker shade. Unusual gray and green braces covered her arms up to her elbows, and something similar to it wrapped around her neck and chest; I guess it's something of Tamaranian fashion. Her luscious hair flowed around her shoulders like an Amazon lady's, not that I knew what that meant.

There were short bleachers on the side where Nightwing was standing, but they were barely filled with Greg, Syrus, and Jory's presences. Everyone was watching attentively, like they were waiting for me to mess up again.

I gulped nervously.

"Go!" Nightwing shouted, and I held up my staff defensively. Darien crouched down, like an animal about to pounce, and then launched a quick jab forward. He was told to go extremely easy on me, but if this was easy, than I'd never make it alive.

I dodged this time, forgetting once again that the goal was to block the attack. I'm better at dodging, anyway – it's my forte. And this time, Nightwing didn't interrupt, but instead gave me a couple tips.

"Watch your footwork. You don't want to trip over your own toes."

I took a step to the left just as Darien leapt at me, coming down with his rod near the place where my right foot had been a moment ago. Already I was breathing heavily, even if we'd barely begun.

"Don't let him on your weak side. He'll just take advantage of that."

_What the hell is my weak side?_ I snarled, but had no time to voice it as the kid made another swipe at me. I ducked, leaning on my staff for support while I regained my balance. But Darien wouldn't have that. He swiftly spun around and whammed the top of my staff so hard it flew from my hands, and I fell on my butt.

"Damn it," I mumbled, scowling up at the smug guy in front of me.

"Try again," offered Nightwing, and he was surprisingly patient with me. I looked at him questioningly, and he added, "I've been through this before, trust me. Syrus was harder to teach this to than you are. I could've taught a dog how to fly before he finally got the hang of it."

"I heard that!" the water-controller shouted from his seat, and I smirked with gratitude at my teacher.

Darien helped me up and gave me back my staff. From there on out, we worked on defense mainly, practicing until the sun began to lower itself in the horizon. I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say I fell on my ass, dropped my staff, and even hit myself in the head more times than I could count before I managed to block _one _attack. And I got _so_ embarrassed when Starfire burst out in applause when that happened.

A couple hours of tiring, sweat-breaking practice later, Nightwing smiled and suggested that we stop for the day.

"No, wait," I said, startled by my own words. "I think I'm getting the hang of it, really." I looked between him and Darien, reading the surprise on their faces. "Let's work on offense."

_Wow. I think the summer heat is getting to me, because … I can't believe I just said_ _that!_

There was a brief moment of hesitation where Darien asked, "Are you sure, Remi? Can you even stand properly?"

"I'm fine," I snapped, "I just … want to know all the basics now while I'm here, I guess."

"Well, if you're up to it," alleged Nightwing, "We can give you a couple more rounds. Darien, show her some attack moves."

After a short demonstration by my sparring buddy – including a move where you crouch down and swing your staff at the opponent's legs and a fascinating style of thrusts and slams – we began again. This time, I was determined not to look stupid or silly or inevitably hopeless. I would try harder than I've ever tried before, and blah blah blah… oh, let's get it over with.

Out of the freaking blue, I got an idea. Anger always gave me energy, so what if I thought about things I hated, things that made me absolutely furious? Maybe that would give me some stamina to keep going, to give my all? I looked at my opponent, trying to imagine him as someone I truly and unfathomably detested. Two faces popped up in my head, so I picked one – Lexis. And just like that, I was fighting her instead of Darien.

"Go!"

I came at him first, no hesitation in my moves. He blocked a hard prod, but I didn't stop there. I came spinning around, bringing my staff along with me, and aimed to knock his block off. He ducked just in time, probably surprised by my unexpected change in attitude.

All those memories of Lexis and her gang bullying me at school were suddenly flashing before my eyes. I was six, and she shoved me into the sandbox. I was nine, and she stole my lunch. I was eleven, and she gave me my first black eye. I was fourteen, and she pushed me down a flight of stairs.

I was sixteen, and she cornered me in a construction site, stabbed me through the stomach, left me to die…

Without realizing it, I had unleashed Hell on Darien. He didn't even see it coming, but one after another my attacks came, giving no warning. A slam to the right, barely blocked. A swing at the legs, dodged. A spinning thrust at the left, missed by mere inches.

Somehow, we ended up in a staff lock, pressing the rods against each other with all our force. He had the advantage – he was physically stronger than me, no doubt. But my anger was fueling me, and with a silent grunt I released my pressure and glided to the right. Darien stepped forward to catch his balance, but I stuck my foot out just in time to catch him around the ankle. He stumbled onto his hands and knees.

I thought I had him, but before I could pin him down he somersaulted forward and out of my reach. He turned, panting, a wide grin on his face. The grin was probably at how much I had just accomplished in an incredibly short time, but I didn't see it that way.

He was taunting me. He was telling me he was better, that he could always come out on top. I practically gritted my teeth, and my grip on the staff clenched even tighter. If it were a wooden stick, it would've snapped by now.

There was a moment of suspension that felt like it lasted for centuries, and then Darien let out a battle cry and leapt at me. That's right, he _leapt_, a head-on hurdle forward. He was still too far away to possibly tackle me to the ground, but as I soon discovered, that wasn't his intent.

Spinning his staff expertly within his palms, Darien used one end of the rod to support himself while he flipped up and over the other. Basically, it looked like he was doing one of those poll-vaulting exercises that you always see in the Olympics, and he was shockingly good at it. A second later, he was on his feet, standing no more than a yard away from me.

Suddenly, time felt like it was moving in slow motion. I saw Darien turn around, _saw_ him drag the staff through the air, _saw_ him aiming a swipe at my ribcage. And yet, it was all happening so slowly, like I was moving faster than everything else. I was in control, now.

Without thinking – hell, without even realizing what I was doing – I snapped up my staff and easily blocked the hit. Then, swinging the opposite end up swifter than I expected, I caught him by sheer surprise and smacked him in the face. He gasped, stumbling backwards and dropping his staff, continuing to fall backwards on his bum. Darien's hands were already cupped around his nose before the full force of what I'd just done hit me like a dart to the forehead.

I dropped my staff, barely hearing it clatter to the platform below. Eyes wide with guilt, I took a step back, a hand coming to cover my slightly agape mouth. "Oh, my God…" I whispered, my heart pounding not from the adrenaline rush, but from knowing that I had … _hurt _someone. I had hurt Darien, who was nothing but nice to me ever since I arrived here.

What the Hell was the matter with me?

"Dare, you okay?" Greg bellowed, jumping up from his seat and running towards the platform. Syrus and Jory were right behind him, and I saw Nightwing start to climb up the shallow side. But I still beat all of them there.

I knelt by Darien, who was now laying on his back but still conscious, and started to ramble. "I'm so sorry! … I didn't mean to! … I don't know what came over me! … Stupid pole is too long… Shouldn't have done this… I can't believe myself…"

Darien stopped me by smiling, and he pulled away one of his hands cupping his face to give me a thumbs-up, telling me it was okay. It was then I saw his nose was bleeding.

It wasn't just bleeding. It was _broken._

"You broke his nose!" Jory gasped disbelievingly. A mere moment ago she had flown over to Darien's other side and was now standing over the both of us.

"How did you manage that?" Greg whispered, startling me by coming up from behind. He went around and helped his friend up at the shoulders, so now he was sitting up.

I didn't respond, but only watched in horror as even more blood began to gush out. His face was like a freaking waterfall of gore! It disgusted me, and yet I didn't have the guts to look away. After all, I was the one who caused it.

"Dude, look at all the blood!" Syrus cackled; his lip rose in a weird smirk-grimace.

"That's perfectly normal for a head wound," Nightwing assured, coming up in front of Darien and gingerly pulling the teen's hands away from his face. The guy looked like something out of a horror movie, making me gasp again.

"'S nuffin," he murmured, looking at me with eyes that were practically begging me not to blame myself. "It dudn' eben hurd." (Translation: It's doesn't even hurt.) But that point flew out the window when Nightwing touched his nose near the place where it broke, and he winced away from the contact.

The guilt washed over me like a rain in a storm, and I just wanted him to be okay. It was my fault he got hurt, my fault he was even sparring in the first place. So he shouldn't have to pay for my damn idiocy! Why can't he just … go numb, or something? That way, he wouldn't feel the pain.

That's all I wanted for him – his pain to go away.

"Remi…" Greg mumbled, his musical voice catching my attention. "Your hand…"

I looked down, and to my utter amazement my left hand was glowing. Like, _glowing! _A pulsing white light seeped from my skin, shining like a star, and completely taking me off-guard. And yet … somehow I knew what I was supposed to do. I don't know what made me do it, what compelled me, but without a single word spoken I raised my hand to Darien's face. His chocolate eyes widened in concern, but he didn't move away from my approach.

My fingers softly touched the bloodied skin, feeling the broken bone beneath without adding any pressure. Then I closed my eyes, and let the energy flow. Slowly, but not vainly, the time stretched on.

Until _snap!_

I felt it beneath my hand before I heard it – the sound of Darien's nose coming back together.

The sound of my healing powers at work once again.

* * *

**A/N – Okay. So, I didn't get around to writing often these days, and I'm not really sure how long I've kept all you readers waiting. I can only say two words that could possibly excuse my tardy behavior:**

_**Writer's**__**block**_**.**

**I hope you liked the chapter, at least. And really, people! I lose the will the write as well as the will to live when I don't get reviews! Maybe if I put it in all caps, you'll notice it better…**

**REVIEW! PWETTY PWEASE, REVIEW! FOR GOD'S SAKE, MY LIFE COULD DEPEND ON IT!**

**There.**

**- random -**

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	12. Sad Days

My Life

Chapter Twelve: _Sad Days_

After what seemed like ages, I managed to open my eyes again. I pulled my arm slowly away from Darien's face and examined my workmanship with full interest. The blood had dried to a black crumble that crusted his face darker, but that was the only thing that looked out of place. His nose was completely healed, broken bone and all.

Darien, as soon as I retreated, lifted up a hand and felt his face gingerly. He was afraid that it still might hurt, but I could read the surprise on his face when there was no pain. "Whoa…" he whispered, so quietly only I could hear it. Then, he shot me a wickedly wide smile.

But I didn't smile back. I didn't feel like I had the right. It was my fault his nose broke in the first place. And maybe … maybe that was why my new power suddenly kicked in, so I could make amends for my wrongdoing. I had never hurt someone before; it was always the other way around.

At least all the evidence was gone.

"How did you _do_ that?" someone exclaimed in astonishment, and I looked up to see, much to my displeasure, that everyone was crowded around us now. Jory was the one who had spoke, and I felt a pang of smugness to have shown off what I was able to do in front of her. Now she couldn't call me useless. Syrus, either.

But would I be able to do it again in the future? That was the real question.

"Remi, I thought you said you couldn't control your powers?" Greg asked. He was crouched down, next to the small space between Darien and me. He looked absolutely perplexed … and amazed.

"I don't…" I started, trailing off in a thousand different directions. I found myself staring down at my hand again, pretending to look thoughtful when really I just wanted to avoid everyone's attention. "I … I don't know how I did it."

Suddenly, a massive wave of exhaustion hit me like a speeding car. I wobbled, falling off the balls of my feet and onto my knees. It still didn't help my balance, for everything was swaying and spinning, the colors of the world blurring together. Was this the aftereffect of my healing power? Because it felt like I was on a ship in the middle of an angry ocean.

I felt seasick.

"Hey, Remi? Are you okay?"

"What's wrong with her?"

"Is she alright?"

"She looks a little green."

"I think she's gonna pass out!"

"Oh, not again."

The voices were obviously coming from the others, but I couldn't distinguish one from the rest. My eyes drooped, and my posture slouched to the point where I thought I would fall over. I was completely out of it. Was this how people felt when they were high? Or wasted?

Then one voice stood out above all others. "Carry her over to the bleachers. I'll make sure she's alright."

Mom.

Suddenly I felt the ground beneath me vanish, and for an instant I was floating in a weightless world. But then my legs dangled back and forth as whomever was carrying me made their way over to their destination. Briefly I bobbed up and down, too weak to even open my eyes, and I felt little difference when I was set down on the warm, flat metal of a long bench.

I felt a presence beside me and forcefully blinked open my eyes. Mom was there, and so was Nightwing. The others, I later saw, were still down on the platform, interrogating Darien.

"What was it like, man?"

"Did it hurt?"

"Could you breathe?"

Their questions were all answered so quietly that I couldn't hear; I was too far away. I looked at my mother and saw the visible relief spread through her eyes.

"What happened?" I mumbled, grunting silently as I pushed myself to a sit-up position. I swung around _very_ slowly to have my legs fall over the bench's edge.

"You'll be fine," Mom reassured me, "You're little healing spree caused you a bit of exhaustion, that's all. It happens when you push your powers to their limit."

So it was just an aftereffect, like I thought. Hm.

"Did that ever happen to you?" I questioned, worried she might say no. But she nodded.

"Yes, and it still does sometimes. It's bothersome, but I've gotten used to it throughout my life."

I nodded slowly, taking this in smoothly and without panic. I could heal. I had done it twice now, in a time period of only … what, four days? Five? I was already losing track of time here. What day was it? Thursday? Friday?

Nightwing stood up from where he was crouched down beside me, and looked over to the kids on the platform. Well, all of them were kids except for Starfire, who was not taking part in the questioning. "Darien!" the leader called, "Get to a sink and clean up your face and shirt. When you get back, we'll start some target practice."

Greg and Syrus grinned, taking this as good news, but Jory rolled her eyes and sighed angrily, to the point where it sounded like a growl. I watched as Darien stood up and patted the back of his pants as if nothing remotely important just happened, but lost interest and returned my gaze on Mom.

"How did I do it?"

"You mean heal Darien's nose? Or break it?"

I sighed. "Heal it."

"Truthfully, I'm not quite sure how you managed to pull it off. I wasn't able to heal broken bones until a higher level in my training, and up until then it was only bruises and small cuts." Mom smiled proudly at me. "But you managed to heal his nose perfectly, rebuilding the damaged cartilage and everything. And your little … incident, down at the construction site? Well, I have to say I was surprised when you explained how deep the wound was."

I remembered the expression on her face when I said the spike had gone right through me, and held back a shiver.

"But _how _did I do it?" I pressed, "I mean, when you heal others, how do _you_ do it? Do you say or do something that activates it?"

She looked pensive. "Well, I suppose you could say it's a bit like a light switch, waiting for the right finger to flip it on. My trigger might be different than yours, since you're the only one in the world I can compare my powers to." She paused, and then surprised me by asking, "What were you thinking right before you healed him?"

"What was I thinking?"

"Yes. What were your exact thoughts the moment before your hand began to glow?"

"I don't know… I guess I was feeling guilty about breaking it." I thought harder, my brow furrowing together. "I wanted his pain to go away. I thought, maybe if the pain just goes away, things would get a little better."

Mom didn't respond at first, and that got me worried. What was going on inside her head? But then…

"Well, it turns out we _do_ have the same trigger."

"Huh?"

"To use my healing powers, I focus all of my soul-self into my hands – the energy within me that's basically my life force – and I turn all my thoughts onto one thing: take away the pain. When you ease the pain out of the wounded's mind, that helps the injury heal fast and properly."

I looked down, absorbing this new information as well. _You got all that, Knowledge? _I called.

_Loud and clear,_ it responded. _And I should probably mention this now, since we're on the subject. What you thought before you healed Darien … you thought the same thing back at the building site, when you healed yourself._

_I did? _I don't even remember that. _Well, it turns out you aren't as useless as I thought you were._

_You, too._

I nearly growled.

"Raven, could you be of assistance, please?" Starfire called. I looked up to see the Tamaranian behind the long control panel again, seeming a bit befuddled with the different switches and knobs. "I still do not know how to work this complex contraption."

Mom let out a soft sigh and stood. "I'm coming," she answered, then turned back to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. I smiled slightly at her touch. "How about we have a private session tomorrow, just the two of us?" she suggested. I nodded eagerly.

"Anything to get out of this."

She smirked, and then started down the bleachers towards Starfire. As I watched her get farther and farther away, the memory of what I wanted to bring up in conversation hit me in the forehead. I forgot to mention BB! It was the perfect chance for us to talk about him, even if Nightwing was still around. And now that chance was gone, blown right out the window. When was I going to get a chance alone with her without looking too suspicious in front of the others? I didn't want them to wonder.

I felt the weight on the bench shift to my right and turned to see Nightwing sitting beside me. There was a little over a foot of space between us, to my liking.

"I have to say I'm surprised, Remi," he said, grinning. I waited, but he didn't continue.

"Surprised about what?" I demanded, irritated that he made me ask.

"About your sudden burst in skill with the staff," he explained. "You weren't doing too well in the very beginning, let's be honest. But just now, after you offered to play offense, you were … really good."

I shied away from him a little. I hated getting compliments. They just didn't seem natural to me, seeing as it didn't happen very often. "Thanks," I muttered.

"Mind if I ask what your secret is?" he prompted, but I just shrugged. "Well, let me just say you're probably one of my quickest students, by far. When I was in training, I had enough trouble catching on as with learning new moves. But you really proved yourself wrong out there."

I shot him a look. "Proved myself wrong, you say?"

"Yeah. You keep saying you weren't good and that you'd never learn, but it just took some practice."

That would've made sense … if I had a lot of practice to begin with. But I'd only been training for a couple of hours in one day and already I managed to break a nose and leave some bruises. I sighed. Was I ever gonna be normal?

A big, fat, rotten _**no **_for that one.

I returned my attention to the others and watched as narrow slots began to slide open in the ground. They were spread evenly apart, each one maybe four feet long and with six feet of space between them. There were four of them, but there could have easily been more. Mom must have only brought up the appropriate amount of targets for today's practice. A few minutes later, five-foot tall target boards rose up from the dirt, making me wonder how much of this island was actually _island_ and not mechanics.

Darien returned not too long afterward, his face clean and his shirt changed. He was cracking his fingers over his head as he took a position about twenty feet in front of the target farthest away from where Nightwing and I were sitting. Syrus took the target next to him, then Greg, and finally Jory. All of them looked pretty intensely focused.

There was a brief lull in action, a suspenseful hesitation, and then Greg's eyes started to glow red, followed by his fists. He raised both his hands to his chest, and the light increased two-fold. The next instant, he thrusted his arms forward and a large ball of spinning red energy departed from his grip, flinging at unimaginable speed and hitting the target dead center. A low, reverberating _boom_ echoed over the bay, and smoke began to ascend from the impact on the target.

"That's something you don't see every day," I murmured, and I heard Nightwing bark a laugh next to me. I flickered my gaze over to Greg's face, thinking I'd see a smug smile. But instead I locked eyes with him; just long enough for him to grin my favorite crooked grin and then turn away. That was weird.

_Ahem, _Knowledge coughed, sounding strange from coming inside my brain.

_Shut it,_ I grumbled, and watched as the others followed Greg's lead. Jory's eyes went completely blue, and then, so fast I barely saw it coming, she fired out an array of sky-colored starbolts from her hands at her target. Unfortunately for her, I was there to witness while every single shot missed the center. She growled and stomped her foot while I held back a scoff. _Sucks to be you right now, doesn't it?_ I thought, hoping I wasn't being too hypocritical. I thought I heard Knowledge sigh.

On the other side of Greg, who had started firing again with smaller bolts that all hit right on aim, Syrus had his hands in his pockets. I wondered why he wasn't shooting, like everyone else, until I noticed a thick strand of water separating itself from the bay. That made sense; he had to get ammo before he could fire.

Within seconds, a swimming swarm of water drifted around the Atlantian, and that was when he pulled out his hands and held them in front of him. Slowly, he outstretched his fingers from his fists, and simultaneously the water began to divide into ten large spheres. The spheres became ovals, and then started to round at a point on one side, like a circular pyramid. They became water arrows, I soon discovered. But how could Syrus shoot at a target with _water?_

I learned that, too. Because the next instant the water froze in place, shrinking into thick icicles that simply levitated in place in front of their controller. Crispy frost hovered in sparkling crystals around each one. It was a bit like puppetry; the icicles were the puppets, Syrus the puppeteer, and he controlled them with his fingertips. When he flicked his right forefinger forward, his face scrutinized on the target, the ice that was right in front of his chest flew forward with tremendous speed, spinning in the air to create a wake of frosty wind behind it. There was a loud _crack_, and the sharp end of the icicle actually protruded from the other side of the target. It had gone straight through it; there was so much force. And I don't like to admit this, but water boy had me impressed.

I moved on to watch Darien. He was being his goofy, light-hearted self, as usual, stretching his arms and back and legs with exaggerated emphasis. From the way he prepared, it seemed he would be running the mile. But all he did was extend his arm to its full length and form his hand into the shape of a handgun. Two fingers reached out of his fist, aimed dead straight at the target's center, and his thumb flickered up. A single moment passed.

Darien closed one eye and flicked his thumb down. Too fast for me to see, the lightening charged through his fingertips, bolted through the air, and hit the board with a thunderous _crack!_ He waited while the dark gray cloud of smoke thinned so he could observe the damage done, and I saw a solid black patch in the center of the target. The board had even indented with the force of such a small attack.

"Bulls-eye!" shouted Darien, and he raised his arm to fire again and again.

"Dammit!" I heard Jory shriek and turned to see her plop down on her stubborn ass with her arms crossed over her chest. "I suck at this! I suck at everything!"

"Oh, please, my daughter," Starfire frowned, flying around the others to reach the blue-eyed girl. "Do not get down because of a few blunders."

"Yeah, Jor," Greg added, "You wouldn't miss so much if you worked on your aim and not on your speed." His voice probably didn't mean to sound as critical as it did. Jory's scowl darkened.

"Easy for you to say, Mister 'I-Can-Do-Anything-Because-I-Think-I'm-So-Awesome-But-I'm-Really-Uber-Gay'," she snapped, getting to her feet as quickly as she sat. She almost spoke further, but Starfire interrupted her.

"Gregory, thank you for your suggestion that I am _certain_ was out of kindness," she stated, seeming a bit sarcastic for her and eyeing her son confidently. He shrugged like it was nothing. "But I believe you should work on your _own _aim."

"What do you mean?" He looked confused and gestured to his singed target with a jerk of the thumb. "I hit the center every time."

"With your eyes?"

_What does she mean by that?_ I wondered, watching as Greg suddenly soured. Jory smirked devilishly.

"Yeah, jerk," she squeaked, "Don't try to fix _my_ problemswhen you've got issues of your own. That's like … like fixing someone else's car when yours is dead."

"Jory, enough," Starfire reprimanded, and for once the girl actually listened. She huffed, turning back to her own target and pretending to concentrate. But I could tell from where I was that her eyes were still focused on Greg's actions.

I watched him, too. I was growing curious, as normal, about what else his eyes could do. I mean, they could already hypnotize me. What other aptitudes were they capable of?

Greg took a deep breath and stared at his target. No, it wasn't just a stare. It was too intense. His brow furrowed deep in his forehead, and his eyes glowed the same blood red they did the night he saved me from Syrus. Which was, you know, yesterday.

Then, suddenly, a narrow beam shot forward in a super-straight line, the light not unlike Greg's starbolts. He hit the target in the upper left-hand corner, nowhere near the center. Greg had laser vision? Or, was it more like star vision or something? Either way, he really needed to work on his aim.

The black-haired teen gritted his teeth and turned to his mother. "It keeps veering to the northwest," he complained.

Starfire nodded. "Then try aiming at the southeast," she suggested, before returning her attention to a sniggering Jory. "Now, Bluefi–"

"_Jory_," she snapped, instantly angry and glaring blue daggers at her mother. Starfire sighed in surrender.

"My apologies. Jory, you should take your brother's advice and fire at a slower pace. Try to hit the target's center at least once before you try to hit it a hundred times in one minute, okay?"

Jory shrugged carelessly and started firing again, this time without as much recklessness.

I watched them silently, occasionally switching my attention from one to another. From the corner of my eye, I saw my mother leave her place from behind the control panel and walk over to Syrus, where she began to give him some tips on his firing method. She even used her powers of telekinesis to demonstrate a spinning action with his own icicles, driving them halfway through the target. Syrus was polite about it, to my relief and surprise.

I don't know where it came from or if Knowledge was behind it, but I suddenly got an idea.

"Hey, Nightwing?" I started, and his gaze left his son's form to lock with mine. "Who's Robin?"

I expected him to react poorly to the name, perhaps with a scowl because the teen became a bad seed, or maybe a sad frown if he died or something. But instead, Nightwing laughed.

"Robin?" he repeated, and I nodded with wide eyes. "Why do you want to know about him?"

I looked down, realizing I had to fess up sooner than I expected. "I went on a little tour of the tower this morning," I explained, "and I found some … old rooms…"

"Ah, you found the Ghost Floor, huh?" he interjected matter-of-factly, as if he expected this to happen the whole time. My eyes darted to his face. "Cyborg likes to call it that. The world of the yesteryears, the land of the past. I haven't been up there in forever." He sighed, a slight smile upon his tan, featured face, and I could tell he was looking through a time window and seeing the days gone by. I granted him a minute to daydream before I continued.

"I was just curious, because I know how there were five original Teen Titans, but … Robin isn't with us today, is he? Or she, if that's who it was."

Nightwing laughed again, this time with even more lightheartedness. "A she? No, no. I can promise you _that_ much." He paused, and then eyed me inquisitively. "You haven't done much research on the Titans in the past, have you?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, the topic never showed much interest to me until now. Kind of ironic, huh?"

He nodded, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. There was another explosion down by the target field, but this time I ignored it. Closer and closer, I was approaching the answers I so desperately craved.

"Well, you're looking at him," Nightwing stated, and it took me a moment to catch on. My eyes popped wide open as realization struck like a hammer to a gong.

"Oh!" I said with total disregard for sophistication. "You … you're Robin? Really? I just … wow. I didn't expect that. I thought you were always known as Nightwing."

"Nope. I changed my name at … I think twenty-three, it was." He paused a moment, looking up as if actually looking into his brain. "Yep, twenty-three. Boy, it took a while for it to catch on, though. Almost everyone on the team still called me Robin for eight whole months before it started to wear down on them." The man chuckled at the amusing memory. I smiled a little, too.

"There was … another thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"Hmm?"

"I found another room on the … the Ghost Floor. I don't quite understand it." I hesitated, my eyes flickering over every inch of Nightwing's face for a sign of recognition. "Who is … BB?"

This time, Nightwing didn't laugh. In fact, he darkened almost immediately after I spoke the name. I gulped nervously as his smile slowly faded from his face. I almost regretted bringing the subject up, but I knew the remorse wouldn't last very long. A question came to mind… Was Nightwing angry, or sad? Or was he something else altogether?

Turns out, he was sad. "We don't really talk about him much, Remi. I don't suppose you would understand, and I don't blame you for being ignorant. You should probably know, anyway, considering you'll be living in the Tower with us for the summer." He sighed again, this time with a heavy heart. I looked at him with an expressionless face, veiled my emotions again, and waited.

"BB stands for Beast Boy," Nightwing elucidated, "He was one of the original five, a green changeling with the power to transform into any animal."

_That explains a _whole _lot._

"But he was human, nonetheless. Probably the most human out of all of us. There was never a time when … he just… He had this personality that could make anyone either smile, laugh, or get annoyed with completely. There was rarely a time when he took something seriously." The ghost of a grin haunted Nightwing's face, but the second I noticed it, it was gone. "He was one hell of a Titan."

"What happened to him?" I asked.

Nightwing didn't answer at first, and I remembered this conversation was probably hard for him to have. I couldn't really understand how he must be feeling right now, as he said before, but I could form the idea in my head.

"Do you know where he is?" I pressed when the minutes of hesitation passed me by. He obviously wasn't with the Titans anymore, that's for sure. But Nightwing wasn't saying anything. He wasn't even looking at me. His masked gaze was off into the distance, and a hard knot formed in the pit of my stomach. What if I couldn't get any answers out of him? If he didn't cooperate with me, I would have to ask Mom. And I kind of didn't want to do that anymore, if this was the reaction I got from the freaking _leader._

His face was detached as he watched Greg shoot a little closer to the bulls-eye. "Heh," he chuckled, but it was a bit strangled. "I remember when Greg went through his transformation. It was only last year, but that still had to be the worst week of his life."

_What the hell is he rambling about?_

"Nightwing, I … I would really like to know about Beast Boy," I prompted, trying not to sound rude or demanding. "Please?" I added, also afraid I was acting too nosy or sounding a bit pathetic. I didn't want to make _that_ kind of impression, either.

Any remnants of a smile were long gone from his expression now, and he sighed. It was the sound of reluctance and surrender. I felt gleeful inside.

"Beast Boy left the Teen Titans a long time ago. He didn't say anything about leaving, and I don't remember him even acting differently. He just … one day he was gone. No warning. No note. No explanation. Nothing. Packed his bags and … well…" Nightwing coughed almost awkwardly, and he tilted his head to cast me a sideways glance. "I always suspected there was a motive behind it, but I never found out what that motive was. Of course, Beast Boy had enemies, like any of the rest of us. But he wouldn't have been taken by force or killed without the Titans learning about it later on. And Beast Boy was skilled. He wouldn't get taken down easily."

I saw something in Nightwing's face then, a flicker of unidentifiable feeling. If only I could key into his emotions like my mother could … my mother… He wasn't looking at me anymore. His gaze drifted around my head, and I realized he must be looking at Mom behind me. She was still helping Syrus with his icicles.

"You think he left because of my mom?" I interpreted warily, my brow knitting slightly.

"Not … technically, no, I don't blame Raven for anything. But the thought did pass through my mind. After all, she and Beast Boy were in a relationship when he left."

I gulped inwardly, and a few trickles of sweat drizzled down the back of my neck unnoticed. It was so much weirder talking about it out loud. It was like the photograph was coming to life.

To get answers, I had to pretend I had no clue what he was talking about.

"Beast Boy was dating my mom?" I repeated innocently.

"She never told you?"

"No. I never thought of her as the dating type, so I never asked. And she … never said anything." That actually _was _the truth.

"Well, Raven and Beast Boy were really close, which was a huge surprise to everyone because she used to hate his _guts_ when they first met." That same indistinct smile had returned to the shadows of Nightwing's face, but he continued without stopping. "But right before BB disappeared, he and Raven got into a fight, and she broke up with him."

"What did they fight about?"

"I don't know. Neither of them ever said anything about it, not even to Starfire, Cyborg, or me. But it must've been bad, because they've been through some tough times and usually they pulled through. They were quite the persistent couple."

Part of me certainly didn't want to hear that, but another part was a bit relieved to know that Mom had someone who cared about her so much.

"Anyway, after Beast Boy vanished from the radar and we couldn't find him at any of his usual hang-out spots, we sent out the red alert to every honorary Teen Titan we recruited. Nobody found him. He wasn't anywhere in the country. He wasn't anywhere at all."

"Hm," I hummed, "But here's another question: Why is Beast Boy's bedroom different from the others? Nothing's covered up or protected, and everything's a complete _mess, _and…"

"That's how it always was," Nightwing burst, shifting his position on the bench and re-crossing his arms. "Beast Boy was the most disorganized person that I've ever met in my entire life, and that includes Syrus. The other Teen Titans and I agreed to preserve his room as it was. I guess … there was always the hope that he would return, and when he did, his things would be left exactly how they were before he'd gone. But…"

"He never came back," I finished. Nightwing nodded solemnly.

"All we have now is his memory," he stated, sighing almost inaudibly. "And a year later, we lost another member of the team. Raven left us to raise you in a more normal environment. It's a relief, though, to have her back now. It seems like all the pieces are coming back together … all but one." He stopped abruptly then, but it was good timing for me. Because I just had a scary thought. No, not a thought. It was more like a theory.

And according to this terrifying theoryof mine, Beast Boy really _is_ my dad. Or, maybe he _was_, depending on if he was still alive or not, wherever he was. That fight between him and my mom? She told him she was pregnant, and being the coward he was, he freaked out about being the father. Maybe he claimed the kid wasn't his or something, I don't know, but something he did or said must've ticked my mother off. She dumped him, intent on raising me by her lonesome. Beast Boy, however, took the break up roughly and abandoned everything without notice, running out of both fear and anger.

Then again, Nightwing did say their relationship was pretty intense, and from the way he spoke of Beast Boy, he didn't sound like the cowardly type. To my ears, anyway. And there was the matter of why I didn't look like him again.

Was he or was he not my freaking father? After sixteen years of silence, if he actually was my dad, wouldn't he even care to call or something? Or write? Or … _something?_

Well, it was just a theory. A terrifying, real-sounding, totally possible theory. He might not even be my dad. But right now, he's the best lead I've got. So bite me if I'm not as politely reasonable about it later on.

"So … is he still alive?" I raised the subject with both hands waving bright yellow caution signs in front of me. I knew this was a delicate topic, for me as much as him. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he might be enduring right now on the inside. Nightwing, I mean.

"I don't know." The words were short, blunt, and cold with emotion. He sighed and raised his hand to rub his brow, closing his eyes … I think. "It was one of the hardest eras of my life, those seven long years spent hoping, and waiting. And searching, believe me, the Titans and I searched every corner of this world. But Beast Boy wasn't anywhere."

I pulled a stray dark violet hair out of my face and watched as Nightwing got lost in the land of thoughts and memories again.

"All that time, I must've been kidding with the inevitable," he whispered, and his voice was a harsh rasp from his throat. I permitted myself a pitiful expression. "I didn't want to admit that he was gone, and neither did the rest of the original team. But … everyone else realized it long before us that Beast Boy was never going to come back. He was dead, and that fact hit us harder than any bomb or fist in the face. Especially … especially your mom." He looked at me then. "Raven had it the worst out of all of us, though she wouldn't let it show at the funeral. You know how she gets."

"Yeah. I know."

There was an ear-splitting, eye-popping, skull-crackingexplosion from down below, and both our heads snapped down to gaze upon what happened. Jory's target had a large, gaping hole in the center, its size and shape one that could allow four or five heads to pop through to the other side. Jory herself was looking both guilty and smug at the same time. My first thought was that she finally got her aim straight. But none of her attacks were that powerful before.

Nightwing stood, all evidence of his former emotional self long gone as he took his leader role up from the coat rack. "Jory, _what _have I told you about taking my things?" he reprimanded. "Come on. You're older than you're acting, and you know better."

Jory shrugged and looked down, but I still saw the outline of her impish grin stretch across her face. Starfire held out her hand expectantly, and Jory pulled out two little tools that were shaped in the curve of a boomerang. She reached into her other pocket as well and dropped three small round things in the palm of her mother's hand. They dropped heavily, but with Starfire's strength, I'm sure it made no difference.

I thought back, trying vigorously to remember a time when Mom attended a funeral. I was six years old; I had to be. But … I couldn't recall any such time. Not even a vision of my mother in black appeared to the front of my mind, and before today that was hard for me to even imagine.

I glanced at my mother, who was no longer helping Syrus but had moved on to assist Darien with wider-range attacks. A sharp pang of sadness struck the center of my heart as accurately as the lightning hit the target. _She went through so much,_ I thought, _and she didn't even give me a reason to suspect anything was wrong. She was so good at hiding it … I wonder if she feels anything for him still, even though…_

"Yo!" The loud bellow was unmistakable now, and sure enough, the half-robot Cyborg waltzed into the training area like he, well, owned the place. I was hoping for some good news to come out of today's events, but the look on Cyborg's face proved otherwise. He was scowling so deeply, I almost expected his bolts to pop.

_Ohh, _Knowledge groaned. _This can't be good._

* * *

Greg sat casually across from me at the little island in the middle of the kitchen area. I took a soundless sip of my vegetable soup and eyed him while he poured himself a glass of water and drank. The shouts and tire-screeches of a car chase in an action-packed film were quite audible from the living room, where Darien and Syrus were wrestling over the remote.

"Dude, this movie sucks!" Syrus roared. "We ain't watching this, so help me if we do."

"Well, you can leave then," retorted Darien. "I never got to see the ending of this movie, because _someone _always shuts it off before it's over."

"Because it _sucks! _It's just full of suckish pussy guys and ugly bitches and total … _suckishness!_"

"You'll get over it."

I looked over at Greg and gestured with my chin at his empty place setting. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really. I've never been a dinner person. I'm more of a breakfast kind of guy." He grinned at me, and the golden flecks within his red eyes shone like the sun. I caught my breath in my throat.

"But … I didn't see you eat this morning?" I managed to point out without sounding like I was being suffocated.

"That's because you came down _after _the fiasco. Trust me, I'm a wild animal in the morning." His beautiful crooked smirk was so amazing I had to look away. I could just hear it now what Knowledge was thinking, probably singing that damn song again…

I buried my gaze into my spoon and bowl, thinking back through the day.

When Cyborg had returned from running his tests during target practice, we were all expected an announcement that was worthy of headline news. But, much to the teens and my disappointment, he requested to speak with the Titans alone. Us mere children were left out. _Again._

Right now, they're probably having a conference in some private room of the Tower on a hidden floor that I wasn't able to discover. I sighed inwardly. _I wish I was in on things. It doesn't seem right that they would keep us out of the dark if the situation was getting vital._

_That's life, Remi. You can't expect it to be fair._

_Yeah, yeah. Whatever._

_It probably has something to do with what Starfire was jittery about earlier, _Knowledge suggested.

_No… Ya think? _I muttered sarcastically, rolling my eyes clandestinely. _Of _course _it's about that! What do you think they're doing right now, having some of Mom's pure herbal tea? I don't think so._

_I was just throwing it out there…_

_And they say you're smart… Psht._

_Who says?_

_What?_

_Who says I'm smart?_

_It's just an expression. Ugh… just … leave me alone. You're confusing me._

_Whatever you say, you're Highness._

Okay. So it wasn't the most noble of my rare conversations, but who would know, right?

"Hey, where did Jory run off to?" I inquired to Greg without looking at him.

"I dunno. Probably blockaded herself in her room again. She used to lock the door all the time, but my dad turned that little feature off when she wouldn't let anyone in there for three whole days."

"Huh."

Silence.

"How old are you again?" Greg abruptly asked. I shot him a look that said, _'Why do you care?' _He held up his hands innocently. "I'm just curious, I swear. I just didn't want to go around telling people otherwise."

"Why would you tell people my age anyway?" I demanded.

"All kinds of reasons."

I didn't really know what to make of that, but I also couldn't find a decent reason not to answer. "I'm sixteen."

"Really? I could've swore… Never mind. Forget I said anything."

I took another spoonful of soup, but my meddling side outweighed my hunger. "If we're in the stage of asking personal questions, than you won't mind me asking how old you are."

Greg didn't even hesitate. "Seventeen years, eight months, twelve days, four hours, and thirty-two minutes… Nah, just kidding. But I am seventeen."

"What about them?" I jerked my head to the side, motioning to Darien and Syrus, who quit arguing over the TV and agreed to play video games instead. "Are they seventeen, too?"

"Syrus is. I'm only three months older than him. And believe it or not … but Darien is actually the oldest of us all." That got my eyes wide.

"Seriously?"

"Yep. He's eighteen, though it's quite obvious that he doesn't act it."

I gave a quiet laugh, though it was supposed to be a scoff. Greg's smile beamed bright, and I forced myself to look away again. How could I keep losing it in front of him? It wasn't making any sense.

"Oh yeah, and in case you were wondering, you aren't the youngest one here."

"I know. Jory's fourteen."

"Oh. Did she tell you?"

"Yeah. Well, no. She kind of let it slip earlier today." More like she barked it in my face while on her rabid bitch rampage. Uh-huh. She _let it slip._

I lifted myself to my feet and walked around to the sink, where I respectively rinsed out my bowl and set it down for washing next to some other dirty dishes. When I turned around again, another question came to mind. And though I _hated _to ask so many inquiries, I simply had to know. It was my damn weakness, after all.

"Hey, I was wondering," I started, and the tall boy turned in his seat to face me. "Nightwing mentioned something earlier about a … 'transformation'? What did he mean by that?"

However faint, I could tell Greg's face was blushing a light pink, and he was growing embarrassed. I almost took back my words, but then he started to speak.

"Oh, that? It's just something I had to inherit from my mother. Every Tamaranian goes through a different transformation – a sort of puberty experience that only lasts one week – and when they emerge and return to normal, they get the power of their starbolts within their eyes."

"Yeah. I saw you doing that earlier. Why didn't you tell me about it before?"

"Well, because _my_ transformation involved my skin hardening to an orange stone like the Thing and I grew devil horns for a week. It wasn't one of the best times of my life, but I did get another cool power out of it."

I smiled sympathetically, and then realized I just gave him the satisfactory of seeing my smile, and swiftly wiped it off. I had to get away before this kid made me giggle like a little schoolgirl.

"It's getting pretty dark out," I mentioned, glancing out the wide windows into the dark blue and purple skies, the stars blocked out by the massive light pollution of the city. "I think I'll head to bed. Good night, Greg."

"Oh. Already? Well … okay, then. Good night, Remi."

I walked away then, waving a hand to Darien and Syrus when they overheard our words and shouted out their own farewells. "Pleasant dreams!" were the last words I heard before disappearing through the main doors. No doubt they were from Darien. I smiled inwardly at the thought of actually making friends. And to my surprise, it was getting easier and easier to believe that these people actually _were _my friends, and not posers who're taking advantage of me. Well, Syrus still remains to be seen, but both Darien and Greg seem to have passed my test.

I officially accept them.

It's weird, but I now have people to call friends. And I couldn't be less surprised than anyone else that they were boys, seeing as I'm not the tomboy type or anything.

In a flash, my life really did flip upside-down, didn't it? I don't think I'll ever be the same after this.

The walk back to my bedroom was silent, and I was grateful that Knowledge didn't take the time to pop up and say hello and ruin my good spirits. It must be catching on that I don't like it when it does that. Gliding soundlessly into my bedroom, I changed quickly and slithered under my sheets.

I don't remember closing my eyes, but the next thing I knew, I was dead asleep and drowning in dreams.

* * *

There were the mirrors again. And the different versions of me. This time, I was staring into my face that had tears streaming down the sides of my ashen cheeks. Well not _mine. _But they so looked like me; the resemblance was near perfect. Except for the eyes again. This time, they weren't green, but a crystal sky blue. Too blue to be my blue-violet irises, that's for certain.

The question was this: why was my replica crying like a five-year-old who just lost her puppy?

I didn't have time to find out, because suddenly the scene changed. No longer did the mirrors surround me; instead I was standing in a white-walled hallway of a darkly lit house. The carpet felt warm and fuzzy and familiar beneath my bare feet, and I immediately recognized where I was.

My house. The one back in the midst of Jump City. But something was different about it. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

A small creak in the floorboards beneath the carpet made me look up, right into the face of a little girl. Her hair was long and flat, the shade of a dark violet, flowing down effortlessly around her tiny, plump-cheeked face that was as pale as the moon. She blinked round, blue-violet eyes as she looked at me, but somehow I knew she couldn't see me. I was invisible here. A ghost.

The girl was only a mere age of six, possibly five even, and she was dressed in a dark red plaid dress that only made her skin glow eerily in the faint light. It was then I realized the ominous yellow glow was emanating from a long, vertical crack in the wall. A door, barely visible in the dark, was opened scarcely an inch. The young girl tilted her head curiously, and tiptoed to the entrance. I could hear a low whimpering noise, and equally as curious as this dream girl, I hovered behind her and peeked into the room like she did.

My eyes widened as they laid upon the sight of my own mother, Raven Roth. Sitting in the small chair before her dresser, she looked the same as she does today, only her cheeks and eyes were a bit more youthful and her vibrant purple hair was slightly longer. Mom was holding her head in the palm of her hands, and her shoulders were shaking slightly. It was then I took in the long, beautiful dress that fit her figure perfectly.

A _black _dress.

The girl in front of me tried to sneak a step closer, but her hand slipped on the door and pushed it open another couple of inches. The movement was accompanied by a low squeak of the hinges, and Mom glanced up alertly into the child's face. There were wet streaks running from her eyes down to her jaw line. She'd obviously been crying.

"Remi?" the woman asked, and I held my breath. She could see me? I thought I was imperceptible. But then the little girl straightened up and opened the door a little wider to pop her head in.

"Mommy? Why are you crying?" she asked. With a start, I realized what I should've realized the moment I laid eyes on this girl.

She was me, when I was six years old.

I was dreaming about a _memory._

"Come here, sweetie," Mom hushed, holding out her arms. The little Remi ran eagerly forward and was lifted into her mother's lap. She wiped a tear off of Mom's cheek, and the woman smiled heartwarmingly.

"Mom, why are you wearing that dress?" Remi asked, blinking her big eyes and forgetting all about her original question. "I never saw you in a black dress before."

"Well, I have to wear this dress," my mother explained carefully. "I have a very important place to go to tonight, and I must meet with some old friends of mine. I'll be back in a few hours, just in time to tuck you in for bed. I promise."

"Can't I come with you?"

"Not this time, my sweet. Where I'm going, it's too sad for children of your age. You'll understand when you get older." Mom touched her forehead to her daughter's. "In the meantime, keep the doors locked and the windows shut until I get back, okay?"

"Okay," Remi sighed. "But … where are you going? Who are your friends? Can I meet them?"

"Someday you will, maybe. But tonight, you mustn't ask so many questions. Your mother is having a hard time dealing with a few things, and she needs to do this."

"Alright, Mommy." The little girl kissed her mother, _my_ mother, on the cheek before hopping off her lap. "Love you."

"I love you, too, Remi. Always."

The younger Remi didn't even glance in my direction as she exited the room, closing the door behind her all the way. But she hesitated outside the room, and turning back she quietly pressed her ear to the door. I did the same, and what I heard made my chest tighten in sadness.

It was the sound of my mother as she wept.

Looking down, I caught the sight of a solitary tear rolling slowly down the side of the younger Remi's cheek, but then everything was gone, lost into a swirling darkness that mesmerized me.

I woke a bit shaken, my heart pounding in my chest and my hands quivering with nerves. Whether I was sweating from the summer's heat or the dream, I didn't know. Perhaps a little of both.

Was that the memory I was searching for earlier, at the training arena? Did I really just remember when my mom readied herself to attend Beast Boy's funeral? Why did I suddenly remember … in a _dream? _It made absolutely no sense.

Looking around me, I realized it wasn't even morning yet. The glowing numbers on my digital clock read twelve twenty-two, just past midnight. The moon wasn't as full as last night, and this time it was completely covered in clouds. So my bedroom was pitch black, making me feel blind and helpless when I sat upright.

And it didn't help a single bit when a loud, ear-shattering alarm flared alive, rattling my brain and making me cover my head with both hands. A small police-car-like light attached to the space above my doorway, quiet and motionless ever since I got here, was suddenly blinking with bright red light and roaring alive.

_What the (insert swear word of your choice here) is going on?_

* * *

**A/N – Hey there. Random here as always with your little author's note. Just wanted to say, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you learned more about the deal with Beast Boy and Raven and such.**

**Is Beast Boy Remi's real father? Does Raven know, but she won't say anything? Why, if you lovely folk simply review with your opinions, I would gladly update twice as fast. That's my motto.**

**When people review, I'm so hyped up about the fact that people are actually **_**reading **_**my story that I want to update even faster for the sake of my dedicated readers. But when people **_**don't **_**review, it totally bums me out and I'm so busy squandering in my self-misery that I forget to update the next chapter until three weeks later.**

**So please, for everyone's sake … **_**REVIEW! **_**Gracias. Merci beaucoup. And **_**thank you **_**in every other language there is, too.**

**- random -**

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	13. Fire Chance

My Life

Chapter Thirteen: _Fire Chance_

I entered the main room with an irritated aura drifting around me – one that said _'get too close, and I'll bite you.'_ Just before I fled from my room after the alarm blared, I remembered I was still dressed in my purple flannel pajamas with black stripes, and I quickly changed into a black wool sweater and my normal set of dark jeans. Hey, I didn't have to look perfect in the middle of the night anyway. Who cares?

"Remi, over here!" Greg waved me over, and I joined him as well as everyone else by a little computer that Nightwing was stabbing the keys of. Everything was getting more and more complex as time passed in this place. "This is the central data base," explained Greg, "It's where all the information and updates about the city are stored, and it tells us when, where, and what crime is being committed at a given time."

"Fascinating."

My tone was indifferent, but I really was interested in this. I promised myself to research it later.

Suddenly, the big TV that Darien and Syrus were playing video games on earlier blinked to life, and in moments it was transformed into a larger view of what was on the computer's much smaller screen. Columns of what I assumed was _meant_ to be organized information and records filled up my sight, and it scrolled a few inches down the screen before coming to a halt.

I realized just then that Nightwing was wearing his uniform. What, did he sleep in it or something? Now that I was a bit more awake, I noticed that, heck, everyone was dressed, and in much better attire than myself. Starfire and my mom were both in their outfits as Nightwing was, and Cyborg was his usual blue and white robotic self. Greg was wearing a black tee shirt that revealed just enough muscle beneath the fabric, and the color matched his ruffled hair almost perfectly – sleek velvet darkness. It caught my eye more than it should have. Darien, however, had a bright yellow sweatshirt on and big sweatpants, and it made me wonder if he even bothered to change. Syrus wore a gray sweat-jacket over a white tee, zipped up halfway with the hood kinda half up over his head, but not really. He looked tired, but for once didn't complain. Jory was a different matter altogether; it's almost as if she was expecting to get up at midnight, and came ultra-prepared. Dressed completely in white, from her knee-high boots, stockings, mini-skirt, tank top, and jacket, her pumpkin hair was as straight and flawless as ever. I think she even had make-up on, but I couldn't be sure.

Yet, I was still the last to arrive. _I suppose it's something I have to get used to, dressing in a flash for emergencies such as this, _I mused, hoping Knowledge would disregard my thoughts or at least bite back the comment I just knew it wanted to say.

"What's the situation, Wing?" Cyborg asked, yawning in mid-sentence.

"The alert originated from downtown Jump City," replied the masked Titan, typing away furiously at the keyboard. His long, black hair fell over his face as he leaned forward.

Starfire, who was staring up at the big screen, traced a few lines of small print with a long, slender finger. "It says here that a fire at the Saint Orgsburth Museum for Ancient and Historical Artifacts initiated six point five minutes ago, and it did not take long for it to lose control."

"Let's move out, Titans. Before somebody gets seriously hurt." Nightwing took the lead, speed walking across the room in the opposite direction of the elevator. I was about to ask Greg why they were heading to a simple _wall _when Syrus popped up in front of the Titan leader. The exhaustion seemed to have wiped clean from his system, and energy bubbled in his eyes as he spoke.

"I'm going, too."

"What?" Cyborg exclaimed, "Sy, man. We don't have time for this. There's a burning building, for Christ's sake!"

"Which is why I should come, too." Syrus crossed his arms and raised his chin with what could be thought of as confidence, but anyone who knew him well enough would see it was his pigheadedness at work. "I have the power to control water. If this fire is as wild as you say it is, then you need my help to tame it."

Nightwing thought about it for a brief moment, and then nodded in agreement. Syrus grinned, and some strands of his dirty blond hair fell over his cold, gray eyes so he didn't look like the hero, but the villain. It was creepy. And I _know _creepy.

"Hey, what about me?" The all-too-familiar stubborn tone of Jory floated to my ears just as she flew over to Syrus's side. Mimicking his crossed arms, she attempted to stare down her father. "You can't just take one of us and leave the rest behind."

"Yeah," pitched Darien, joining the Atlantian's other flank. "We're a team, too. If one goes, all of us go." I caught him cast a glance in Greg's direction, and then at me. Greg cleared his throat, and Nightwing turned to him.

"Well, Gregory?" the leader asked formally, "Is your team ready for this mission in your eyes?"

"They are."

_Um, hey! I'm not ready! … Not that I'm part of your team anyway. I'm not a part of anyone's team. You know… wait, why is Nightwing asking Greg … _his _team? Huh?_

"Nightwing," called Mom, who was now standing before the computer screen, "It was just reported that half a dozen security guards were on the upper level of the museum when the fire started, and now they're all trapped." She glanced at her leader with a cocked eyebrow. "They could help evacuate," she suggested, referring to us kids.

_Those _kids. Not me. She couldn't mean me, too.

Greg nodded seriously, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of his father in him. There was no mistaking the similar look of determination that swept over his face or the sternness of his other features. However, the excited smiles planted on Darien and Jory's faces lightened the tension. I expected Syrus to look happy too, but stupid me, I forgot he was a selfish asshole. He scowled, crossing his arms with frustration, no doubt irritated about the thought of sharing the glory. Arrogant pig.

As for me? Well, I felt like running out in front of a moving train just to prove how _not _prepared I was to take on an actual mission, let alone one that involved life-risking matters. Was everyone seriously thinking about putting me out there with them? Or am I just paranoid?

Then Nightwing spoke, breaking up my thoughts. "Okay. We'll all go, but we have to go _now._ Let's move, Titans!" He walked towards the wall again, this time in more of a rush. To my utter amazement, Nightwing placed his hand on a barely visible pad not unlike the one outside the front doors. A vertical crack in the wall slid open to reveal a hidden door, and I felt like a total moron. Of course there would be a faster way to get around the Tower. The Titans couldn't go rushing off to fight crime … in a slow-as-a-turtle elevator. Stairs? Out of the question.

One by one, sometimes by two, the Titans filed out of the room and disappeared through the door. I was rooted to the spot, disbelieving that this was actually happening. I was quickly considering the option of retreating to my bedroom unnoticed when I realized I wasn't alone.

Greg was standing in the doorway, staring at me questioningly.

"Remi?" he asked, motioning ahead of him like a gentleman. "I'm pretty sure they need the both of us."

I took a hesitant step back, clutching my wrist in a vice-like grip in front of my chest. It's what I always did when I was nervous, or scared, or … heck, even bold (the rare moments I dared to be). Greg's brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "I wouldn't be any help," I whispered, loud enough for him to barely hear me.

"What are you talking about?" he laughed a bit, walking back to me as casually as if this was a game. "Stop kidding around. We have a job to do."

"Do I look like a person who 'kids around', Greg?" I demanded, raising a heavy monotone. "Drop the act already. You and I both know I won't be anything but a nuisance."

He grew sober so fast I missed the transition. "Remi, stop saying things like that."

"I'd just get in the way…"

"Remi, come on! You can use your powers to–"

"_What_ powers? You mean the ones that I can't control? Yeah, that'll be _real _useful." My sarcasm stung him, I could tell, and I refrained from flinching even inwardly.

"What about your healing ability? You've done it more than once, so there has to be a connection. You could help Raven heal the wounded."

I couldn't look into his face any more. It was too painful. My eyes found my feet. "She'll be fine on her own. She's done a bang-up job so far, hasn't she?" I sighed, trying my best not to explode with frustration that this dimwitted boy couldn't get it through his thick skull that _I should not go._ "I'm not the hero type, Greg," I started again, making my voice calm itself and leak at least a small ounce of emotion. "I'm the coward. I don't fight, I run. I don't dedicate myself to anything; I quit at the first chance I get. I suck at life, and it sucks even more when I know I can freely admit that and nobody will object, nobody will care. _I'm _the one who backs out because I know I'll be no good to anyone. That's the harsh reality of it, Greg. Deal with it. I do."

There was a pause, a moment where the silence was both golden and heart breaking at the same time. I thought maybe Greg left without me and all this time I've been ranting to myself…

Then I felt his hand close around mine, and all the air whooshed out of me like I was kicked in the chest. I looked up, startled to find Greg staring so intensely at me I thought his eyes might light up by accident and set me on fire.

"Remi … you're stubborn, I see that now. But you're the child of a Teen Titan, and like me you're destined to use your powers for the sake of others. My team … Dare, Sy, and even Jory … we all know the risks that come with saving lives and helping people besides ourselves. But we do it anyway. And Remi … if you don't like what we do, then you either don't belong here … or you don't deserve to have powers at all."

I was completely taken aback by his words, both at the harsh truthfulness and the defensive tone he took. He was acting like I offendedhim. Well, _he _just offended _me! _I know what he means by helping people, by using your powers for good and not evil. And believe me, I _wish_ I could help those people in the fire. But that's as far as I can go, wishing. I don't have the capabilities of saving a life. Hell, I can't even save myself from bullies. Or drowning on land.

And plus, I was scared shitless.

I whipped my hand out of his firm grip, secretly surprised when he let go of his own free will. The most murderous, betrayed glare downpoured from my eyes, and even the strong-willed, determined, overly protective Gregory Grayson took a full step back.

_What a way to start a fresh friendship,_ I thought sourly.

"YO! Are you two comin'? We've been runnin' the motor down here for half an hour!"

Cyborg's very loud (and obviously agitated) voice from over the intercom didn't even faze me, nor did it seem to disturb Greg. We stood like that for about three more seconds, my glare penetrating into his blood-colored eyes like a blade, and he stood there taking it wordlessly and with a blank expression not unlike my own curtaining him from me.

Then he dropped his eyes and walked around me, being careful not to brush shoulders with me as he passed by. He uttered a low response into the intercom – one I didn't care to hear.

Because I'd suddenly made up my mind. And this time, I would stick to my decision like glue to a … a … well, like glue. Slowly, my dangerous persona was edging away, and my normal impassive self took command once again. Except I was getting a major headache between the temples.

"Are you coming or not?" demanded the red-eyed, black-haired teenage boy behind me. I turned around and looked him square in the eyes, my expression almost cynical.

* * *

Flames engulfed the Saint Orgsburth Museum in an angry explosion of red, orange, and yellow, devouring everything in sight like a fat guy at a buffet, belching up thick, black clouds of smoke in the shape of mushrooms. It spelled _doom _across the sky almost as if it were actually written in words. The stars and moon were completely blocked from view, and the stench of cinder and ash hit my nose with a disgusting _whoosh _when I first opened the door of the T-car.

All around us, fire trucks and police cars and ambulances blinked with bright red and blue lights that left blurry imprints in my vision when I looked away. Officers and firemen were shouting to one another over the noise of the fire's cackles, as if it were laughing at their feeble attempts at putting it out. A caution tape outlined a big area surrounding everything, and behind it were large crowds of people watching with big eyes and whispering as if this were an exciting action film and not real life.

In truth, all of it made me sick to my stomach, but I made the choice to be here and I wasn't about to back out now. Not with the itchy feeling that Greg's red gaze was always burning a hole in my head, absorbing every little reaction I couldn't suppress and waiting for me to just chicken out at any moment.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

However, seeing a few people at the ambulances getting treated for burns and smoke-inhalation from the fire made me wonder how much help I was actually going to be. There were so many qualified people here – paramedics, firemen, police officers – and they were all doing their jobs.

Well, so were we. I guess. Isn't that why we're here? The job? The whole save-the-day concept?

"This looks bad," Darien said as he got out of the car after me, taking in the frightful scene with a dark look on his face. His brown eyes were set with determination, and I couldn't spot a single ounce of fear or hesitation in them. It made me feel worse.

On the other side of the T-car, Syrus got out and slammed the door shut. Cyborg and Greg had sat in the front seats, Cyborg driving of course, and just when they opened their own doors, a low rumble that stood out from the rest of the noise roared next to me. I turned, shaken on the inside but nonchalant on the outside, to see Nightwing pull to a park on his black motorbike.

"Nice ride," Syrus mumbled, clearly jealous. "Is it always that shiny, or do you polish it to show off?"

If Nightwing heard him, he didn't react in any way. His gaze was set on the flaming museum as well. Suddenly flying down from above came the last three Titans, Jory, Starfire, and Mom, all floating through the air with precise weightlessness. It was a bit odd to see my mother soaring through the air while we drove below, but I soon became adjusted to the notion. A little. Maybe not so much. Okay, it freaks me out.

"Syrus," Nightwing called, and the boy was at his side as fast as the Flash, "Douse the fire."

Syrus replied with a grin, cracking his fingers and walking straight up to the building. I took a hesitant step forward after him, afraid the idiot would get too overconfident and walk straight into the building like he was invincible. Then I realized I was worried about _Syrus, _and shook my head. I was more rattled about this than I thought. I was beginning to think nonsense.

The Atlantian stopped a few yards from the closest blaze that licked upward and reached for him hungrily, like it knew he was standing there vulnerably. Extending his left arm out to the side, Syrus's hand curved like a claw, an open fist. With stunned firemen watching on the sidelines, the water in the hoses started to leak tremendous amounts all by themselves, snaking through the air in thick tendrils. When the water was a foot over his head, Syrus raised both of his hands in front of him and closed his eyes in concentration, combining all the water into a giant sphere. I could see a thin sheen of sweat forming along his brow, and his blond bangs were sticking to his forehead.

As Syrus started to evenly spread and rain down the large amounts of water over the scariest parts of the fire first, Nightwing looked about to say something else but was cut off by a scream. A moment later a middle-aged man stumbled through the front doors of the museum, holding his right thigh with both hands. I spotted red. _Lots _of red.

Blood.

The man coughed, his face and clothes painted black from ash. He was wearing a singed outfit that was a bit like a police officer's, and I realized he must be one of the security guards that are trapped upstairs. A thin wisp of soot puffed out of his mouth in a gross, chunky haze as he shouted for help.

"Look out!" Greg shouted, starting to run toward the man just as the museum's doorframe started to break off. A loud, groaning pop echoed the detachment as the large chunk of wood and metal flung itself at the ground – and at the man.

Jory zipped out of nowhere, flying past her brother and speeding to the man before anyone could stop her. That's when I heard those same three strange words spoken from my mother, and looked up to see her eyes glowing white and her hands encased in the black energy.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos!" she shouted, and I expected something to shoot out of her hands like, I dunno, black lightning or something. Instead, the frame was caught in midair by the black energy, which sheathed it completely and held it up just long enough for Jory to take the man by the elbow and quickly guide him to the closest ambulance. The paramedic gave her a mixed look of gratefulness and shock, taking the injured man off her hands.

A couple more things could be heard crumbling inside, and another, smaller section of the frame collapsed. Mom let it fall as she dropped the section she was holding with her dark aura. It landed with a sickening crunch.

"The building's becoming less and less structurally sound by the second," I heard Cyborg say to Nightwing, his robotic arm held up at chest level. He was looking at a hologram of the museum being pulsed off of a tiny computer screen in his forearm, and the worse sections were highlighted red. Which made almost all of it red. "We need a plan, or the museum will completely disintegrate with the guards still inside."

The Titan leader responded curtly and without hesitation. "Starfire, Raven, and Cyborg, do everything you can to keep that thing stable. It has to stand just long enough for the rest of us to go in and retrieve the trapped guards unharmed. Go."

The three obediently charged off. Starfire took the south side and used her incredible strength to hold up the wall which was on the verge of tipping over, taking the ceiling with it, no doubt. Her eyes glowed a bright emerald green, as did her hands, and she shot a couple of carefully aimed starbolts that reattached the bricks back into place. Cyborg used his entire body as a buttress, holding up the front entranceway all by himself without so much as a grunt. My mother levitated up to the west wall and raised her hands, calming a quivering section of the building with her telekinetic powers that I so envied right now.

Jory flew back over to Nightwing.

"That man has serious issues," she told him with a disapproving snort.

"What do you mean?" demanded Greg, who walked up beside the two of them.

"He was babbling like a lunatic! I asked him what started the fire, but all he would say was stuff about bright yellow eyes and … demons that attacked him and tried to eat him and the others."

"Did he say anything else?" Nightwing asked earnestly.

Jory shot him an incredulous look. "You _believe_ this weirdo?"

"I've seen a lot of 'weird' things in my time, and one day you will, too. And if this man is telling the truth, then that day is today. What else did he say?"

"H-He said that he saw them before the rest of guards did … saw the demons, I mean … and he told the other five guards to run. They locked themselves in a room on the second floor, and when the demons couldn't get to them, they got mad and set the museum on fire somehow."

"He doesn't know how?"

"No. He was in the room with the others when the building started to burn. He tried to make a break for it on his own, but _apparently_ one of the yellow-eyed demons caught him and bit into his leg." There was something hidden behind the skeptical look in her eyes. I had a feeling about what it was.

"You saw for yourself, didn't you?" I said, speaking up for the first time. Everyone's eyes turned on me as if they just realized I was there. "The man's leg. It's bitten, isn't it?"

Nightwing and Greg turned to Jory expectantly. "Well?" Greg prompted.

Jory nodded almost reluctantly. "Yeah," she whispered. "It was awful. There was … blood everywhere."

_I've been there, _I thought sourly.

"Which means there's proof that something _is _in there," Nightwing said, "And we can't stand around while the other five guards' lives are at risk." He turned to Greg, who nodded.

"Teen Titans, let's move."

Greg guided the way to the building's broken entrance, and Nightwing followed close behind, giving his son the chance to experience being a leader. It was obvious that the Tamaranian-human hybrid was in training to be a leader as well as a Titan, to one day take up the responsibilities of his father when the time comes.

Darien and Jory followed obediently, and I was left standing alone and trapped between my fear and reluctance, and my desire to prove myself. Not only to Greg, but also to the entire team. So, ignoring my qualms for the moment being, I put on a façade that made me look much braver than I felt and followed the others into the burning building. I passed by Syrus on the journey there. He was sweating so much he had to take off his jacket and his shirt stuck to his chest. A few black wisps of smoke stained his clothes and face.

"It's that hot, is it?" I asked him without meaning to. He glanced at me with a look that said, '_Are you serious?'_

"No shit, Sherlock. It's a fire! What else would it be?" he snapped.

I shot him a glare, my eyes probably glinting dangerously in the light of the blaze. Syrus shrugged me off ignorantly and returned his whole focus to his water. I felt like I knew why he didn't even bother with me – he knew I didn't have it in me to actually strike. No matter how many threats I make, I wouldn't be able to fulfill them anyway, and Syrus knows that. I'm a powerless weakling. _If Nightwing glared at him like I just did, he'd be quivering at the knees. _I sighed hopelessly as I walked on.

Even if Syrus was an absolute jerk, I had to hand it to him: the guy really knows how to manipulate water. It's only been a few minutes, and already the worst was over. Only a couple small spots were still flaming.

That didn't make this little quest any better, though. Oh, goody.

Holding my breath, I stepped through the broken entrance and inside the museum. Greg was giving out orders to everyone at attention, but paused when he realized I wasn't present. The look of pure relief … or was it gratification? … on his face when he saw me come in was so obvious that everyone turned around to see what was up.

_Geez, don't freak. It's just me. No big deal._

I took a moment to absorb my surroundings, making a mental note for Knowledge to remember what it's like to be inside a burning building, and then block the memory from my mind, because I didn't like what I saw. Everything was black and red, hot and smoky and suffocating. I could barely get an inhale going without a hack attack threatening to choke me. And aside from the crackling and the popping of burning wood and bricks and tile and glass and everything else, it was disturbingly quiet. Kind of like the quiet in the eye of a storm or tornado.

"Whaddya think?" Darien asked me in a muffled voice. He was holding his T-shirt over his mouth so as to try and filter the air around us.

"It's darling," I replied in a strained voice, "I'd love to meet the decorator."

"The stairs are caved in," Nightwing pointed out, gesturing towards the place where the stairs _used _to be; only it was a huge pile of useless, crumbling debris now. The second floor was half-visible, because a huge part of the floor of the upper level/ceiling of the lower level had collapsed along with the stairs. There was only one thing holding up the other half, and that was a tall column with a rather frightening crack in it. I had to remind myself that there were innocent people up there; it was the only way I could stay convinced that I myself had to venture into the dark and dangerous in order to save the day.

Greg turned to his sister. "Jory, fly up there and find the room where the security guards are," he ordered. Jory stared at him with wide, blue eyes. I thought her legs were shaking. "Don't worry," her brother reassured her with a small grin, "We'll be right behind you. Nothing will happen."

Jory shook her head and frowned. "I know that," she retorted. "It's not like I'm afraid. 'Cause I'm not."

"Good. Then go."

After sticking her tongue out at him, Jory lifted herself off the ground and zoomed through the air, scarcely avoiding a low section of the highest ceiling that looked just about ready to collapse on top of us. She landed cautiously on the floor of the second level, paused, and then shot us a thumbs-up. A second later, she vanished from sight.

I took a step forward, only to feel something crack beneath my feet. Looking down, I saw that there was glass everywhere, shattered pieces of ancient, priceless artifacts and statues. Some of them were smoldering; others were already scorched completely to ash.

"Careful," Greg whispered to me, and me alone. Why warn me? I'm a big girl. I can handle a little glass.

_Maybe he thinks I'll get myself killed again, _I mused.

_Or maybe he likes you._

I sighed with aggravation, earning an inquisitive glance from Darien. _I can't talk to you right now. I gotta go save some lives. You know, business._

_Good for you, Remi! You're finally embracing your destiny!_

_Huh?_

_Oops, can't talk now. You got lives to save, remember?_

_Knowledge… _But I could sense that its presence was gone from my mind. God, I hated that voice. Or emotion. Or whatever the hell it is. It's there when I don't need it, and gone when I do. Typical.

I picked my way around the broken museum displays extra carefully, and my eyes were suddenly drawn to something carved into the floor. And it was the real floor, not a part of the broken ceiling or anything. Bending down, I peered closer and realized instantly what it was, though with more confusion than clarity.

_Scratch marks?_

There were five parallel lines deeply engraved into the marble floor, and it most certainly looked animal-like. _Hmm… _The man said something about demons. Could they have just been wild animals or something, and he got a little overexcited about it? Everyone exaggerates, and the guy's leg just served as a chew toy! That's bound to spark _some _hysteria.

But he also said that the demons started the fire. What animal starts fires? Monkeys, maybe? If they had matches? But monkeys don't have claws.

I straightened up and crossed my arms. This really was a mystery.

A sudden clattering sound made me jump, spinning abruptly to my right. Something, appearing to be a circular shield from a knight's armor, was rolling around like a giant coin that someone just spun in a circle, before settling to an undulating standstill. I looked around me. Greg, Darien, and Nightwing were in other, separate sections of the expansive room, being thorough in their inspections and observations. They were seeking out clues as to what these demon things might be, and where. None of them turned at the noise, so I must've been the only one to notice.

I felt like I should probably say something about the claw marks, but right when I opened my mouth, Jory's voice echoed around us.

"Hey! I found the room where the guards are in!" she called from where she stood at the edge of the second floor. She wouldn't have a problem if she lost her step, that's for sure. The rest of us gathered around below her. "I had to starbolt the door down, though," she continued, "None of them trusted that I was a good guy there to save them. They're all just like the first guy – '_Demons everywhere! Run for your lives!_'"

"Are they okay?" Greg posed, ignoring her award-winning imitation of crazy people.

"No. The room collapsed on itself at the top, and one guy got knocked unconscious. Another is trapped under an iron beam, but the other three are in okay shape."

"They can move?"

"_Yes_, Greg. Geez, what's with the 20 questions? Just get up here and help me! I don't have super strength, you know. I can't lift a two-hundred pound dude!"

"And we don't have flight abilities, either," I said, growing irritated with her impatient tone. "So how could we possibly get up there?"

Nightwing cleared his throat, and I looked at him just in time to see him pull out some pointy little contraption and raise it to angle up right at the upper level. Jory had backed out of view. A low _click _sounded, and the contraption snapped to life, firing a thick black wire with a three-pronged hook on the end. It grabbed the top of the floor, and the wire grew taut.

A grappling hook … it figures that I wouldn't assume the man of gadgets and tools had one of these.

"Oh," I muttered brilliantly. Darien snickered.

"It doesn't look to be steady enough for more than two additional people," Nightwing said, scrutinizing the second floor with his masked gaze and being polite about my moronic mouth. "Greg and Darien, stay down here. Remi and I will go up."

"Excuse me?" I said, trying to keep my voice level. But I locked gazes with Greg's glowing red eyes, and swallowed back my fears. I couldn't show anything but the bravery that I didn't feel. I had to show Greg up.

Nightwing held out his hand, and I forced my arm to move and accept it. He locked his arm around my waist, which I was most uncomfortable with. But I knew it was necessary. Then, we were suddenly jerked upward, and my dark violet hair blew over my eyes and clouded my view – for the moment, at least.

When solid ground was under my feet again, I knew it was safe. The knot in my stomach undid itself, so I no longer felt like a tightly wound ball of string. Now I felt nauseas. I heard a dangerous creaking beneath me, and Nightwing, who had just released me from his grip, came back to help me find my balance when my foot stumbled. I didn't dare look down to where Greg and Darien were.

"Are you alright?" he asked me with both concern and amusement in his tone. I nodded, too breathless to speak. "It's always a bit over-exciting in the beginning."

"Was it like that for you on your first time?" I gasped when I found my voice.

"No."

"Of course not."

He chuckled. Just then, Jory appeared floating in front of us, obviously thinking that it would be better if her weight wasn't on the unstable ground that I now stood on. _Smart idea, _I thought, surprised.

"C'mon," she said, "They're over here." She guided us down a disturbed, broken hallway, flying higher or lower every now or then to avoid touching her surroundings. _Yes, it might smear your perfect white outfit._

My eyes followed the ruptured walls as I walked beside the Titan leader. And suddenly I recognized what I was looking at. Long score marks slashed deep into the singed drywall and wood beams, lining the wall from side to side. If these "demons" were really animals, like my theory suggested, how could they make claw marks like these in such a deliberate horizontal pattern? It didn't make sense, and as the mystery grew in intensity, so did my anxiety.

We turned into a dark, crumbling room on the side of the hallway. There I got my first glimpse of the people I was supposed to save. Two men were trying to lift a large, fallen iron shaft off of another man who was trapped underneath, but still awake. Off to the side, a woman was cradling the head of an unconscious man, and I spotted a black and blue bump forming on his temple. They were all wearing the same uniform as the first man.

"Oh, thank you, Lord!" the man under the girder exclaimed in relief. He raised his hands in the motion of a prayer to the skies; the iron beam was across his lower body. "Thank you, thank you, Lord, for sending help!"

"Oh, please, Matthew!" the woman cried out, and through a soot-smeared face I could barely distinguish the makings of a playful glare. "These people weren't sent by _God_. Enough with your Puritanism already."

Nightwing hastily walked over to help the other two men heave the beam off the holy man, and Jory and I went over to the woman.

"What are two young girls such as yourselves doing in a ghastly place like this?" the woman rasped, startled at our youth. She couldn't be any older than forty-something.

"We're new Teen Titans, ma'am," Jory introduced in a sweet voice I never heard her use before. "I'm Jory." She cast a disapproving glance in my direction. "And this is Remi."

"Such interesting names. I'm Carolyn." She was nice – to both Jory _and _me. Even though I looked like a gothic kid in my black clothes with my dark hair and Jory stood in all white and radiant as ever. "Could you two help me lift James to his feet?" Carolyn asked in a motherly tone. We nodded and, together, helped the woman raise the unconscious man to a vertical.

I doubt anyone could possibly be this heavy if their eyes were open and the light switches in their brain were flicked on, but since James's lights were out cold, he was just about the heaviest damn thing in the world right now. I hooked my arm underneath his shoulder with discomfort in doing so. Just when we were about to leave the room, Carolyn hesitated.

"What about the demons?" she asked in a whisper. There was a shaking fear in her eyes.

Jory smiled reassuringly. "It's okay. If there was anything out there before, it's gone now."

I wasn't so sure about that, but if I mentioned the claw marks and the shield that moved on its own, Carolyn would be much less willing to leave the room.

Thankfully, she nodded with a relieved sigh and together we dragged James from the room and into the hallway.

"We can take the stairs down," Carolyn was saying as we scuffled out of the hall and into the front room of the museum. "The elevators won't work due to the fire, but…" Her sentence trailed when we reached the edge of the second floor's floor. The woman stiffened. "Oh my goodness," she gasped, obviously absorbing the damage done by the fire for the first time.

James seemed to be getting even heavier by the second, which couldn't be possible, so I chose to act quickly.

"Greg!" I called out, hearing my voice bounce from wall to wall in an echo.

"Remi! Do you have someone?" His voice came from below, and it sounded oh so very far away.

"Yeah."

"Can they jump down?"

"We have an unconscious man here. We'll drop him down first."

"Excuse me?" Carolyn turned shocked eyes on me. "How could you be so inconsiderate? Shame on you! Dropping a man to his death!"

"No, it's not–"

"Please trust us," Jory interrupted me, apparently with the belief that she could be more convincing. "We wouldn't dare let anyone else get hurt tonight. My brother is down there, and he's very strong. He'll catch … what's his name…"

"James," I whispered.

"Yeah, James."

Carolyn wavered for a moment when Greg called back up to us again.

"I'm ready. After I catch him, Darien will take him to an ambulance."

"Okay," Carolyn replied, not to Greg but to Jory. "Okay … I-I'll let him go."

Before she had a chance to change her mind, Jory shouted, "Look out below!" and released her hold on the man. I did the same, and Carolyn followed – she couldn't hold up his weight on her own. I heard her whimper as she watched James fall floppily some thirty feet, probably on the verge of screaming her lungs out. I, of course, didn't even watch, because I knew that if I looked down even once, I'd get sick. I didn't do well with heights; didn't I ever tell you?

There was a small _thud, _and a low grunt. Then: "Got 'im!"

"Oh, thank goodness," breathed Carolyn, a thin trail of ash coming from out of her throat. She coughed a bit, almost looking faint. She turned to Jory. "You weren't kidding. You're brother _is _very strong."

Jory shrugged. I could tell she didn't like Greg being the center of attention. Her bratty side was started to seep through her noble façade.

"Your turn," Jory said after a moment, hiding a grin at the petrified look on Carolyn's face. I would've helped convince her it was okay, but I heard a loud commotion back through the hallway. One of the others was shouting.

Wordlessly I abandoned the other two's sides and raced back to the room to see what was up. My stomach flipped over with nerves when the floor shook beneath my hasty steps, and I tried to be light on my feet. Skidding to a halt in the room's doorway, I expected to see something animal-like, dangerous and bulky and ready to kill, hunched over a man's dead corpse. But it was nothing like that.

One of the men who Nightwing assisted in lifting the iron beam was rocking back and forth on the ground, his fingers curled around his foot as he mumbled incoherently.

"What happened?" I asked Nightwing, who was trying to make the man get up on his feet. The other man was supporting Matthew, the holy guy, in a corner of the room.

"He dropped the iron beam on his foot," the Titan leader explained grimly.

"It feels broken," whimpered the rocking man.

"It might be." Nightwing looked at me with expectancy in his expression. "Remi, can you heal him? Not all the way, but just enough for him to walk out of here?"

I hesitated, unsure of my abilities. At first I opened my mouth to refuse, but then snapped it shut again and nodded solemnly. I was here for a reason, and that was to help. Leaning down next to the man, I waited for him to gingerly remove his hands from his shoe before I wrapped my own fingers around it. Taking a deep breath that almost made me cough, I closed my eyes and concentrated.

_Pain, pain, go away. Come again some other ... well, actually, don't come again at all. Stay away. Stay gone for good. This man has been through enough without the likes of you. So, you know … shoo._

I waited for the similar sensation of light-headedness and power to surge through my center to my hands, but it didn't come. I peeked an eye open, and saw with disappointment that there was no blinding white light. Just me, stupidly holding a shoe with my eyes closed. I sighed, casting a fleeting look of guilt and failure at Nightwing. "I can't do it," I croaked, ash and soot clogging up my throat and making me sound like I was about to cry.

He sighed, too. "I know. I'm sorry. It's too early to ask for you to use your powers yet. They aren't fully developed." He turned to the man. "I'll help you up. You should be able to limp, at least."

"Need any help?" I asked, hoping to make up for flunking my one independent task on this mission.

"No, I'll manage." He threw me a grin, which I didn't return. And in one motion, he had lifted the man up and then placed him down on his good foot. Nodding for Matthew and the other guy to go first, they complied and left the room, creaking all the way down the hall. Nightwing followed with the limping man. And I was left alone, kneeling on the floor of a destroyed room and just about feeling like crap.

The _one _thing I was needed for … and I couldn't do it. The _one _chance I had to prove myself … and I blew it.

Boy, do I suck big time.

After a few moments of simply sitting there and listening to the quiet groans and screeches of the dying building around me, I finally decided to get up and to get the hell out of here. The others were probably wondering why I didn't follow right away. Whatever. I'll lie and say my foot got stuck in a crack in the floor or something. They won't care.

I took a step toward the doorway, but before I went any further I heard a noise. It sounded different from the fire-crackling clamors, almost human. It sounded like a moan.

Peering into the darkness of the hallway, which suddenly grew pitch black and unreadable, I thought I could see something. It was a very indistinct outline of a figure, someone standing in a hunched-over posture and completely motionless.

"Hello?" I asked tentatively. Did Mom read the screen wrong earlier? Were there seven security guards instead of six? "Do you need help?" I added, taking another slow step forward. I was squinting against the darkness, but when the person looked up at me, my heart stopped cold. My eyes flew wide, and my entire body stiffened in terror.

So it was true. There _was _a demon in the building. And right now, it was boring two glowing yellow eyes right at me. It stood there, stock-still for so long that my nerves were going crazy, shouting at me to run. But where could I run? I was cornered.

And then it smiled, its razor-like fangs smeared with blood.

* * *

**A/N – Thanks for reading. This time, I am not to blame for my delay in updating. My internet went down due to a snowstorm, and it just came back up. YAY!**

**Big things are happening in the next chapter, so please, **_**stay tuned! Muahahaha!**_

**- random -**

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	14. Bloody Inferno

My Life

Chapter Fourteen: _Bloody Inferno_

"Mmmm … my, my…" purred a voice from the shadowed darkness. The first thing I noticed was the tint of a growl, lathered with bittersweet hunger, almost like a large cat that hasn't had a meal in days. The second thing, however, was the obvious accent. It was sort of a combination between Scottish and Australian, something I had never heard before. It would have been alluring like Greg's musical tone if it weren't so low and threatening.

I was having a major flashback of the terror and fright-with-flight sense I underwent during all the times Lexis and the other bully girls beat the crap out of me when I realized that it had spoken, and that meant I could try to reason with it. Maybe, just maybe, I could get out of here alive.

"What do you want?" I demanded, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"How disappointing. I was hoping … for a scream."

Maybe I _should_ scream. I had to alert the others, because obviously I was in deep shit. How come Nightwing didn't give me a communicator before this mission began? He was expecting too much of me to endure without one.

The figure stepped slowly into the light, and I bit back a gasp. No, it wasn't a monster with devil horns and red skin, as I expected. Surprisingly, it was an unnaturally tall, burly, _ugly _young man who came forward. Now, when I say tall, I mean six or seven feet. And when I say burly, think "giant gorilla" without the fur. And by ugly, well … use your imagination. His skin was covered in some sort of patchy substance – scales, maybe, like a fish … no, a lizard. They glinted dark blue and sea green in the remaining glow of firelight in the room.

The man leaned forward in the hunch of a predator, his wide nostrils flaring obnoxiously. He _sniffed _me. How impolite and utterly disturbing to boot. With a stumbling step backward, my foot thudded against something hard, something that clanked against my shoe. I bent down quickly and grasped what I had staggered across: a long, metal pipe about an inch in diameter and pretty lightweight, but hollow as a straw. Hell, it was as good a weapon as any despite its flaws. And it reminded me of the staffs I used in training earlier.

Now if only I could remember the actual _moves _Nightwing and Darien had taught me. My mind drew a blank as I stared down this being of irregularity.

The demon paused at my weak battle stance, but only to laugh. His cackle held a hidden roar, like the howl of a volcano approaching eruption. It sent chills of fear through my bones.

"Stay away from me," I said, almost stuttering. I took a few deep, slow breaths to try to calm myself, but it didn't work.

He leaned forward again, his golden yellow eyes wide and his mouth open in a huge grin that revealed not one, but _two _rows of fang-like teeth. Strands of dark hair fell onto his forehead and over his eyes like daggers piercing the air before him.

"Oh? She wants to play games… Mmm … sounds fun…"

Before I knew what was happening, he leapt at me. We were eleven or twelve feet apart from one another, but he closed the distance in a single bound. It was impossible to stop him.

His hand flew up beneath the pipe and I felt rope-thick fingers wrap around my neck, the skin rough with callus. Tiny sharp pressure points pierced my flesh like a prick of a pin, only multiplied by five. I choked a gasp, stupidly dropping my weapon of defense and pulling at his arm. The pipe clattered uselessly at my feet.

"Oh … shush, shush … don't try to fight it," he purred, stooping down and lifting his other hand to my cheek. A large, black, curved claw protruded from the tip of each finger, and with a dangerous gentleness he stroked the side of my forehead, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. My knees began shaking violently.

I tried to speak, simultaneously yanking at his wrist and attempting to break free. But my struggles proved futile.

"Lemme go!" I rasped with the force of barely a whisper. He smiled.

"_No_."

His answer was like a breath of hot air against my face, hotter than the sun itself, hotter than white flame. And it stank of blood, reeked of death. _The security guard! _I realized. _The one who was first to escape … this thing must have been the one that bit him! He was telling the truth!_

Now I knew my opponent's objective.

He wanted to eat me.

_Well, swell._

I had just decided it was time to scream bloody murder when I was oh so rudely interrupted. A shrill, cold laughter broke the scary silence, sending shivers of shock up and down my spine in a single wave, the hairs on my arms prickling with goose bumps. Out of the shadows crawled a _second_ _beast_, its claws digging into the drywall and cement effortlessly as it inched into view in a strange, spider-like manner. One back flip later, and it was standing next to the man. This time, it was a woman.

The man creature didn't release my throat, but he did straighten up when the female arrived.

"Caelum, how many timesss mussst I sssay not to play with your food?" the woman hissed … and when I say hissed, I mean literally. Her accent was similar to the man's, but her S's were stretched out like a snake's would be, if snakes could talk. She wore similar primitive clothing to what the man wore; it was nothing but rags, really. She was petit, too – shorter than me, and quite considerably thinner. Gaunt in the face and scrawny in the figure, her eyes were the same glowing yellow as the man's – Caelum's – and they gave off the aura of confidence. She was everything the man beast was and wasn't, his opposite and his equal all in one. Sharp teeth glinted with intimidation from between her thin lips when she spoke, and I quickly spotted the golden orange scales along her face and body. Long, wild and wavy hair of equal darkness to Caelum's fell over her shoulders in a way that made me thankful my own hair was short. She reminded me of Halloween, my favorite holiday.

"Acienda," Caelum said, and his grip suddenly tightened around my throat, the claws easily piercing into the skin and causing a rapid blood gush. He swung me around in front of him, holding my back against his too-big-of-a-chest so I was facing the woman.

"Why can't you learn, dear Caelum?" Acienda started, stepping forward with inhuman speed. Her face was an inch from mine, her eyes burning my gaze so that I was forced to look away. "There'ssss no sssensssse in keeping your food alive longer than neccessssary. Jussst kill her now and get it over with. I've sssspotted a much bigger buffet downsssstairsss." She laughed then, cruelly and like the devil himself would. Sparks and smoke flew from her mouth and nose, lighting up the room for a mere instant, making her face glow eerily.

It was like a death omen. Not just to me, but to the others, too. _They plan to kill everyone. To _eat _everyone. I have to do something!_

But before I could do anything, Caelum shifted his weight, tilting my head up so I saw his face upside-down. When he moved, a loud creak echoed around the room from the strain it put on the floor. And that creak was like a storm cloud above my head, unseen lightning ready to strike and light me up.

"My sweet," Caelum spoke, obviously respectful to this much tinier creature for an important reason. "May I grant you the first bite?"

I began to squirm even more when I saw the look of satisfaction light up Acienda's eyes; she had accepted his offer, and would soon turn on me. Caelum stopped my struggles by clamping his other hand over my head, holding it hard and still. I let out a quiet shout as the claws curving out of his fingertips began to dig deep wounds in my flesh. My shirt was warm and sticky with blood.

And then, finally, at long frickin' last, I hear them coming for me.

"Remi?" Nightwing called, his voice near but not near enough. "I heard a noise. Was that you?"

I couldn't answer; my airway was suddenly being crushed by Caelum's entire paw. Acienda hissed angrily at the interruption. I wanted to struggle again, but my fear outweighed my strength and froze me solid. Instead, I gasped for the air I was being restricted from.

"New girl, what are you _doing _back there?" Jory called, impatience seeping into her tone.

_I'm having a freaking picnic, what do you _think _I'm doing! _I thought in angry panic.I heard a quick, rapid round of footsteps that grew steadily louder. A cloud of ash and smoke blew over my head from Caelum's exhale of exasperation. The bastard just wanted to eat in peace – or rather, eat me in pieces.

"Seriously," Jory continued, rounding the corner and coming into view of the room's doorway. "What are you…?" She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw them – the demons, scaled and monstrous in all their hungry glory – and me, bleeding and suffocating and pleading with my eyes for help. There was a single, excruciatingly painful moment of silence between us all, and then Acienda grinned a mouthful of fang.

"Yummy. Another sssssnack to share."

Jory let out a scream like a girl who's seen a ghost in one of those old horror films. The word was out: something was wrong, terribly wrong. Nightwing came rushing down the hall and appeared behind his daughter, whose blue eyes had gone wide with shock and fear. But unlike her, he didn't scream.

It was all action from then on out.

"Grab Remi and get out!" Nightwing roared, leaping around his daughter and entering the room. Acienda launched forward, prepared for a full-scale bloody battle. But before they had a chance to go at it, before Jory could reach me in time, Caelum jerked my chin up with one hand and released his clamp on my neck. I watched his mouth open in slow motion, the rows of teeth elongate, his yellow eyes glint in anticipation.

The fangs grazed the punctured flesh of my throat and would have gone deeper. But a flash of vibrant blue light crashed into his side, knocking him away from me and crashing him into the floor. I caught a glimpse of Jory's face, her eyes and fists glowing as she started towards me.

She'd just saved my life.

But we weren't out of the woods yet.

Just when Caelum's weight hit the fire-weakened floorboards, another loud creak sounded, reverberated around the room, and then came again magnified by five. The ground beneath my feet shook; black dust crumbled and descended from above. It was like an internal building earthquake.

Jory didn't get to me in time. The floor cracked and collapsed beneath my feet, knocking me off balance. I fell on my side with a grunt; everything was sideways. Nightwing was trying to get his footing; Jory had lifted herself off the floor and was now flying, still trying to get to me.

Acienda had vanished from sight, and when I looked, Caelum was gone, too. They were like freaking shadow ghosts or something.

Jory was six feet away. I used my remaining upper body strength and pushed myself to a halfway sitting-up position.

Bad idea.

The motion set the room imbalance to a maximum. There was one last tremor, and then the floor disappeared from beneath me. My stomach flipped over as I started to plummet, nothing to grasp, nothing to stop my falling body. I didn't have the heart to scream, but when I saw Jory flying at me with her hands outstretched, I forgot all about her bratty attitude towards me. All I cared about was stopping my fall.

I reached out to her; our fingers clasped loosely, and she struggled to get a better grip, to fly closer. She wasn't strong enough.

A falling floorboard swung in between us, smacking our grip apart. We got separated, and there was no time for her to avert it. I knew what was to happen next: I'll hit the marble floor with a bone-crunching thud, my skull will crack in half and the contents of my brain will spill in every direction like a glass of milk worth crying over, and then the remnants of the broken room would rain down upon me, a good-bye gift sent by a higher power to bury my mangled body. No, I'm not being pessimistic. I just have no hope left.

I shut my eyes and waited for the blow, my heart beating faster than a hummingbird's rhythmic wings. There was an instant of familiarity, a moment that I recognized as serenity. It was the same exact feeling of overall peace that I felt before the spike stabbed through my stomach. The same feeling I felt the time before my death – the death I, apparently, hadn't eluded. I just prolonged it to tonight.

I wasn't going to leave this museum alive.

_Remi, NO!_

Suddenly, something hit me, hard. But it wasn't what I was expecting. I was abruptly at a standstill, the sense of falling drifting into a simple dizziness. Strong arms encased me, pressing me tightly to a chest that I recognized. But my mind was so buzzed; I couldn't place it right away.

The sound of crashing and banging echoed around me, giving me a fright so terrible my heart ached. Thuds vibrated off the floor as the room showered down on my savior and me, shaking my bones practically to a rattle. I heard a low grunt but was pretty sure it didn't come from me.

The bombardment was followed by an immediate silence, and it was tranquil enough that I held my breath for the longest time, fearing that if I exhaled, the sound of my sigh would bring me back to actuality.

"Remi…" I heard a whisper, and my eyes opened in response.

It was Greg. He had his arms wrapped around me like braces, my head tucked beneath his chin, and my entire body practically hidden underneath his. I blinked, uncomprehending what I was seeing.

"Thank God. I thought you were … you know…"

He shifted, not moving away from me but moving into a less uncomfortable position. Dust and drywall fell from his back when he did so, and the reality of what he'd done for me struck hard. He'd caught me. He'd protected me from the collapsed room. He'd used his own body to shield me.

I raised my head to look at him; our faces were barely an inch apart, but I wasn't concerned for once. I saw it in his eyes then. It was as crystal clear as a cloudless day. He was truly worried about me, about my well being. He didn't want to see me get hurt. He … he _cared _about me. I could feel it, the affection that accompanied the apprehension. I could feel it flowing off of him like it was my own feelings.

This was more than just the need to protect a teammate.

"Are you okay?" asked Greg, sounding almost as breathless as I felt. His eyes traveled over my face and neck, to the wounds Caelum's claws had given me. "You're bleeding."

"So are you," I muttered quietly. There was a cut across his forehead, the blood flowing to the corner of his equally colored eye. He must've gotten it when he shielded me.

We locked eyes again, barely for a brief moment. I'm pretty sure the world could've ended right then and neither of us would have noticed.

But then …

"Remi! Greg! We need your help in here!" It was Darien. Painfully, I broke contact with Greg and pushed myself to a stand beside him. I was about to say those two little words of gratitude, words I rarely ever utter, but then I heard the sounds of fighting.

Greg and I rushed out of the debris of fallen drywall and crumbled woodchips, running straight to the lobby. Taking center stage were Nightwing and Caelum. The acrobatic Titan was laying down some heavy moves on the big beast, moves that were followed through with great strength, speed, and precision. Every swing hit its mark, but Caelum wouldn't go down. Sure, he took a massive beating and his scaly nose was gushing blood, but he was still standing. Heck, he was grinning.

A few yards away stood Darien, his eyes glowing white and his hands sparking wildly, the din of static filling the air. But even in his electrical state I could see the hesitation in his motions. He wanted to fight, but he was forced to stand down because he might accidentally hit Nightwing. Every now and then I caught him glancing upward, and after the fourth time I saw him do so I decided to follow his gaze.

I didn't like what I saw.

It was Acienda. _She was flying. _And not like how Starfire and my mom could fly, the way they simply levitate or bounce in the air. No, Acienda could fly because of one teensy-weensy little trait I hadn't noticed earlier.

She had _wings_.

They weren't very wide, but they were bat-like. Fiery orange scales and golden flaps of loose skin encased a bony structure that doubled and attached to a point in the center of her back, connected to her spine. Curved, black points not unlike her claws protruded from the tips. They looked like hooks.

What _are _these people?

Acienda was flying in a wide circle overhead Caelum and Nightwing, watching them fight but not participating. She reminded me of a vulture.

"C'mon," Greg said, tugging lightly on my arm for my attention. He started running over to Darien, staying close to the wall in precaution to the flying demon woman. I followed.

When we reached him, Darien put out his lightning and turned to us. "Please say you have a plan," he murmured.

"Yeah. It's called _fight,_" Greg answered, his eyes glowing blood red just for a millisecond. "Why haven't you shot down the girl yet?"

"Because she keeps moving around, and I already missed once. I couldn't stop the lightning after fire, so it kept going and hit the ceiling. See, right there." Darien pointed, and I trailed the direction to a black mangled mark on the museum's ceiling. A large chunk of the building had been blown away. I understood what he was saying now. If he fired again and missed, the blow might accidentally knock the entire ceiling down, collapsing the building.

Then I spotted Jory a couple meters away; she caught my eye, almost as if to double-check that I was all right (or that she hadn't let me die), and I responded with a curt nod. I don't know why, but it felt like the only thing to do.

After that, she took off in the air in pursuit of Acienda. Her eyes and hands radiated the natural cool blue of her powers as she chased the strange creature all around the ceiling. Acienda was obviously aware of Jory's presence, for she pulled out some interesting wing maneuvers that intrigued me a little. She was a bit graceful, actually. Well, in a creepy, twisted sort of way.

"_Great._ Now I definitely can't shoot at her," Darien complained. It was true; he might hit Jory by accident. This was quickly becoming a very suckish situation.

Suddenly, we all heard a low grunt and glanced simultaneously to Nightwing and Caelum's battle. A massive hand on his shoulder was restraining the Titan leader, and the other was pulverizing him in the stomach. Caelum looked like crap, but he still had the strength of an ox in each arm. Why retaliate now? What's his motive? As time passed, it was looking more and more like he was just doing all this for _fun._

Acienda's laugh echoed around the lobby like the sound of death in your ears. Jory started shooting blue starbolts at her, but her anger was messing with her aim, and they were easy to evade. That caused frustration, which eventually led to more successful dodging on the demon's part. It was an endless cycle.

Caelum stopped punching Nightwing, took the man by both shoulders, and _threw _him across the room. He landed with a loud _thud_ in the heap of debris from the room that had collapsed before.

"That's it," growled Greg, and he launched himself at the demon. Darien was right behind him. Caelum smiled at the competition, but he had much to learn. These weren't very ordinary kids he was dealing with. Greg didn't stop running; he plowed right into his opponent and punched him harder than I've ever seen before. Caelum's yellow eyes widened with surprise as he was flung backwards several feet. But he was strong, too. He still wouldn't fall on his stubborn ass. Darien came up beside Greg, hands covered in electricity; from his gut he pulled an incredible amount of power, thrust it forward, and fired a huge lightning bolt aimed directly a Caelum's chest. Thunder crackled around the room as it hit right on target, and the enemy was quickly engulfed in smoke and static. _He can't be standing after that blow, _I thought. I mean, what kind of monster can withstand getting electrocuted?

Sure enough, when the gray smoke cleared, Caelum was flat on his back, his black hair standing on end, eyes closed. Only after I felt confident that he wouldn't spring back up and break my friends' necks did I leave my unofficial post and wander back over to the pile of fallen debris. Nightwing didn't need my help getting up, though, but he nodded in appreciation anyway. He seemed okay enough, but he might have a broken rib and I wouldn't know.

He noticed my shirt covered in blood before he saw the cuts in my neck and forehead. "Are you okay, Remi?"

"Fine," I replied tersely. Sure, I was sore like hell and still bleeding, but I wasn't about to go whining about it. "Everyone got out okay, right?"

"By everyone, do you mean the guards?" he specified. I nodded. "Yeah, everyone's out. But … what _are _these things? Did you find out?"

"I have no idea."

Suddenly, one of Jory's rogue starbolts hit a very certain beam that was holding up the remnants of the second floor, busting about half of it away. Within moments, the entire museum was quaking. Just like it had before the room caved in earlier.

Crap.

Nightwing and I rushed over to Greg and Darien, who was making sure Caelum was out cold. Or, rather, fried. "It's our turn to leave," Nightwing announced, "This building won't last very long on its own."

"If it's going down anyway, let's bring it down ourselves," Greg offered. "We can trap these two things inside, bury them in the debris."

"Won't that kill them?" I asked, confused. Titans don't kill, not that I've heard of.

"No, not these guys. You've seen what kind of beatings they can take, this creep in particular." Darien nudged Caelum with his foot.

Just then, Caelum's eyes flew open, startling everyone. But he didn't attack; instead, he rolled backwards, away from us, and stopped on his two clawed feet. His own two, blue and green scaled wings sprouted from a place between his shoulder blades, much larger and longer than Acienda's. In one flap, he was airborne, grinning stupidly at us. He managed to put one over our heads, apparently.

Somebody screamed.

I whipped my head around just in time to see Jory hit the ground hard, her mouth open in an agonizing, blood-curdling shriek. Her right leg was on fire, engulfed in dancing yellow flame that quickly began to burn her skin away.

"JORY!" Nightwing and Greg shouted at once. They moved towards her, but I was closer. Beneath my feet was a fortunate object: a window curtain, somewhat torn up but otherwise whole. I scooped it in my grasp and raced to Jory's side, immediately beginning to bat the fire out with it. The heat scorched me a bit, but other than that I was unharmed. I couldn't say the same for Jory, though. She was still whimpering when the last of the fire was extinguished, and I shortly decided not to unwrap the curtain from her sure-to-be-scarred leg.

When did I become so impulsive? It wasn't really in my nature.

Maybe I am a Teen Titan after all.

"What the hell happened?" Darien shouted. He, Greg, and Nightwing had just run up beside us, and Jory's father knelt down next to her, cradling her by the shoulders.

"It's okay, Jory," he breathed reassuringly. "We'll get you out of here soon, I promise. How much does it hurt? How did this happen?"

Jory coughed, tears leaving clean streaks along her ash-covered cheeks. Her pumpkin hair was all frazzled. Without speaking, she pointed weakly at the ceiling. Or, rather, someone who was flying around the ceiling.

I didn't have to look to know what she meant, but I did anyway. Acienda had smoke and combustion still bursting from her open mouth, the cinders drifting slowly to the floor like black snow. She could breathe fire. And I'm betting Caelum could, also.

A gut-wrenching feeling I didn't anticipate suddenly filled me up to the very top; it was either anger or understanding, but perhaps both combined was a possibility.

Because now everything made perfect sense.

I knew what these things were.

"Watch out!" Darien cried, and I glanced just in time to spot Acienda dive-bombing towards our group. Deep down, I got the feeling she was only coming for me. Wings folded and claws outstretched, she was so close I could feel the heat of her fire smolder against me. But then she was hit square in the chest by a flash of blinding light, emanating from behind me. It was Darien's lightning. Struck practically in the heart, Acienda was thrown off course and she crashed sidelong into a wall behind us, vanishing behind the wreckage.

The building quavered again, only this time the ceiling cracked open and pieces began to fall, smashing apart with so much force the sound echoed around in my mind. The building was finally coming down, and not even the others outside could stop it from happening.

"If we stay any longer, we're screwed!" I pointed out.

"Then let's scram!" Greg yelled over the noise. Nightwing scooped up Jory in his arms and started running to the front entrance, the way we came in to begin with. "Go!" Greg commanded me, pointing after his father. I hesitated, but eventually my feet began to run at an even pace, and I chased after Nightwing. Behind me I heard an ear-pounding clamor, the ruckus of explosions. Briefly I glimpsed over my shoulder at what was happening and saw Greg and Darien running after me, their backs facing me as they fired a million rounds at a flying Caelum. Now instead of only avoiding the collapsing ceiling chunks, Caelum had to also evade Darien's lightning and Greg's red starbolts. Yet, somehow, he was pulling it off. Except for a few that managed to graze Caelum's arms or legs, all the other shots hit the ceiling, disintegrating it even more than it already was.

I returned my eyes to the path ahead. Nightwing had just disappeared through the entrance, and I was so close I could practically feel the cool night air upon my singed skin.

_Just a few more feet…_

WHAM!

A huge iron beam, larger than the one that crushed that man's foot, landed two inches beside me. The suddenness of its fall alone made my heart leap up in my throat, and something caught my foot during my moment of surprised weakness. I landed on my hands and knees with a grunt.

"Remi!"

Darien rushed up to me, and Greg was right alongside him. As they helped me up, I peeked over my shoulder at the damage that was being done. Flames that were long extinguished had suddenly reemerged, quickly engulfing the crumbling walls of the devastated building. Caelum was nowhere in sight; neither was Acienda.

"Where did they go?" I asked. Darien looked back, squinting a little. His brown gaze trailed all over.

"I don't know!" he answered, shrugging slightly. "But who cares? We need to get out of here, _now!_"

Together we ran, Darien gripping my right wrist and Greg my left, to ensure that I wouldn't fall behind. All around us the ground shook, and it poured down debris like a true-to-heart thunderstorm. I was practically hyperventilating.

Greg lessened his hold on my wrist; probably afraid he might squeeze too hard and break something. But he should've kept it tight. The instant it loosened I felt something from the darkness grab my ankle in a familiar vice-like grip. I gasped; just as the three of us broke into open air, I was yanked back inside. My hands broke free of my friends' grasp, and I saw Greg spin around.

"_REMI!"_

I caught myself with my elbows as I fell facedown, pain shooting through the joints as I hit a certain nerve. Something flipped me on my back, and a pit of panic swelled in my stomach as I met Acienda's eyes. She was bleeding roughly from several areas, her body in horrible shape, kind of like she just survived going through a woodchopper. Fierceness flared in her yellow gaze as she scowled down at me.

"No prey esssscapessss me," she hissed, clutching my left shoulder with her claws. I cried out as they sliced my ashen flesh open as easily as a knife cuts butter. "Sssscream all you want! It only makes me hungrier!" She laughed then, her teeth sharper than canines. Caelum approached her from behind, a devilish glint in his eye.

Acienda's claws squeezed tighter, and blood literally flowed out of the wound. _I'm totally screwed._

Out of the blue, the iron beam that fell earlier flung through the air and hit Acienda square in the gut. The force of the hit was so strong that not only did the woman go flying backwards, but she collided with Caelum behind her and sent him flailing back also. Their screams faded into the depths of the building as they vanished from sight.

I looked up just in time to see Greg running to me. Relief washed my senses clean of the fear I had earlier, and I found myself unexpectedly wanting to cry. But it wasn't the time to shed tears. Half the building was already down for the count; I could even see the night sky through huge gaps in the roof.

Greg snatched me up in his arms, cradling me against him protectively. I found myself squeezing my eyes shut, clutching my slashed arm with the opposite hand, and silently praying to God to save us. There was a mind-rattling rumble, an ear-popping crash, and ten seconds later an eerie, abrupt silence overtook the world, like the earth was suddenly standing still.

_Am I dead?_

I peeked an eye open.

What used to be the Saint Orgsburth Museum for Ancient and Historical Artifacts was now a tremendous pile of rubble. Black smoke cloaked the stars from view, but I was still thankful to see the open sky again. It took a moment for me to notice, but gradually I began to absorb my surroundings, and in doing so I arrived at the conclusion that I had, indeed, survived.

The people we had helped before we out of sight, probably at the hospital by now, but a couple of ambulances were still on standby. There was only one fire truck left, and next to it stood Syrus. He looked exhausted, his shirt almost completely drenched in sweat and his face smothered in soot, but an honest grin broke from his mouth when the firemen came up and gave him smacks of congratulations and words of compliment. He was quite pleased with himself, I could tell.

Nightwing had taken Jory over to the paramedics, and Darien was with them. They must know Greg and I came out okay, because they weren't digging frantically through the ruins of the building or dramatically shouting our names.

Starfire drifted down from the sky and landed elegantly next to her husband, and I could hear her worried voice from twenty feet away. Repeatedly she questioned that of Nightwing and her daughter's wellbeing, and when Nightwing told of Jory's leg injuries, Starfire nearly all but fainted.

"There you are." A familiar booming voice brought me back to my own situation, and I glanced to my right to see Cyborg and my mother walking briskly over to us. Mom looked perfect, not a single hair out of place. And Cyborg … well, he didn't have hair.

"Are you two okay?" Mom demanded, though she was really asking me alone, I could tell.

"I'm good," Greg answered.

"Yeah, me too," I echoed.

Mom's brow furrowed as she took in my appearance. "Remi, you're covered in blood," she pointed out. I looked down and was startled to realize just how much blood I had lost on this mission. My black sweater was glistening with it, and the gash in my arm was still gushing despite my efforts to stop the hemorrhage. I didn't mention how much my wounds stung, though I probably should have.

"Can you walk?" Cyborg inquired, his one eyebrow quirked.

"Yeah. It's not that bad."

"Then … why is Greg still holding you?"

Startled, I looked over and saw that Cyborg was right. Greg was still carrying me, and even more surprising was the fact that I was holding onto him, too. I looked away quickly, setting my face in an emotionless stone so as to not reveal how embarrassed I felt. Greg awkwardly cleared his throat, interpreting my sudden silence as a command to put me down. So he did. All my nerves were aflame, sensitive to Greg's touch alone, right down to the point when he let go off my back and left me standing all by myself. It surprised me how strangely vulnerable and alone I felt once I was no longer in his arms.

Mom exchanged a look with her teammate, and then walked up to me. "Let me see you," she said, gesturing with her hands for me to show her my injuries. I rolled my eyes and lifted my chin so she could clearly see the scratches on my neck from Caelum. With careful, deliberate hands my mother examined me, keeping her face as blank as mine. But I could still sense her concern; in fact, I could sense it more than usual. It's hard to explain, really. I guess you could say … I could _feel _my mom's feelings without really trying.

She must've done something with her aura. Maybe she found a way to open up to me completely. I dunno. I can't make heads or tails of it.

After she thoroughly looked over my arm wound and sensed how much it hurt when her finger simply grazed over the opening, Mom looked back at me. "We should get these cuts cleaned before I try to heal them. I don't want you to get an infection."

"Okay. Good idea."

"In the meantime, you should take it easy," she added, and that same wave of concern hit me where it shouldn't have before. My brow furrowed, but I nodded just to show we were on the same page. With her back to Greg and Cyborg, my mom flashed me one of her smiles, and whispered a quick, "I'm proud of you, my girl."

I don't know why. I didn't do anything.

"Come on," Cyborg said, "Let's go check up on the others." Mom stepped back from me and joined the tall machine-man. Together they walked over to the ambulance where Jory was being treated.

I covered my arm wound with my hand again and glanced over at Greg. He was watching me curiously, his red eyes never leaving my face. When he locked gazes with me, he grinned slightly.

"We should probably follow them," he muttered, sliding his hands in his jean pockets. He almost looked awkward, in a concealed sort of way. It made me curious, and a sudden spring of courage bounced into my bones. Just when he turned away I stepped forward hurriedly, one hand slightly outstretched towards him.

"Wait!"

He turned back, one eyebrow raised in surprise. "What?"

"Um…" I started brilliantly. This was harder than I thought it would be, but I managed to swallow my pride and persevere. "I just … I wanted to say thanks. You know … for earlier. You saved me, and I … just thought that…" I sort of drifted off from there, because Greg was smiling. It was his crooked grin, the one he gave me the first time I saw him, the one I went woozy in the stomach for. I was left breathless once again, that twang in my heart aching like never before.

Why was this happening to me?

"Thank you, too," Greg replied, taking me by surprise.

"Wh-what? Why?"

"Because," Greg took a step closer, lifted his shoulders, and let them drop heavily, "You saved Jory when I couldn't. I wasn't able to stop those … _things _from hurting her, and if anything bad had happened to her …" He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. His features had visibly tensed up, and his brow furrowed so deep into his forehead it was like a canyon of emotion.

Suddenly I felt a burst of anger, so strong and powerful it filled me up from the inside out. But the rage wasn't irrational. It was righteous, like there was a perfectly reasonable purpose for it to exist.

But why was I feeling angry at all? That was the irrational part.

Greg opened his eyes again, releasing the tension in his muscles in an anxious huff until his face was softer than cotton.

And the anger left my system, wiped away like a bug on a windshield, leaving my mind clean of ideas about what to think of it.

"If anything happened to Jory," Greg said quietly, staring me directly in the eye so I couldn't look away, "I would regret it for the rest of my life."

Wow. Deep. I didn't know how to respond, react, or reply, even though I'm sure those three words mean the same thing anyway. So I just stared back at him, my blue-violet gaze locked with the blood red glow of his. I hadn't realized before now that we've been imperceptibly sneaking steps closer to each other, inch by precious inch.

Suddenly, a wave of pain hit my arm, and I winced before I could suppress it. Staring at Greg's face of perfection had lowered my guard – stupid, stupid me. My hand clutched at the shredded flesh, fresh blood squeezing out from between my fingers. Greg noticed, and suddenly he was all concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, examining my injuries and searching my face for answers. I quickly recovered myself and released a sigh. My eyes discreetly lowered to the ground.

"We should head over with the others," I muttered, and without waiting for a response I started walking to the paramedics. Greg hesitated, but soon caught up with my short stride. He was quiet. He was thinking.

Starfire, Cyborg, and Darien were clustered around the ambulance's open back doors. As Greg and I approached, I spotted Jory sitting in the hold, her back leaning against the frame of the van and her injured leg spread out in front of her. She was holding back tears and attempting to tame her frazzled orange hair, repetitively brushing the front behind her ears with her fingers. Her face was covered in soot. An EMT was carefully wrapping her calf in a long, thick bandage, trying not to hurt her.

"...third degree burns," he was saying as I walked up to stand next to Darien. "She shouldn't walk on it for two weeks, at least. I'll give her some balm for the scars and prescribe some pain medication, but there's not much else I can do."

"Scars!" Jory gasped, and she nearly broke out into sobs right then. Nothing could be worse than permanent blemishes of the skin, not to Joriand'r Grayson. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I thought it might be too inappropriate.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Starfire said soothing, sitting beside her daughter in the ambulance. She wrapped her arm around Jory and began to stroke the pumpkin hair from her face in soft, slow motions, attempting to calm her. Surprisingly, Jory didn't push her away; instead, she turned to her and started crying into her shoulder, uttering incomprehensible words like "it's not fair" and "why me?" In this lighting, I noticed their skin tones matched almost perfectly, except Jory's goldenrod touch was a bit lighter and more inconspicuous than Starfire's.

Nightwing appeared just then, my mother beside him. I hadn't noticed their absence from the group until they showed up. Nightwing stopped in front of his wife and daughter. "Hey," he whispered softly, kneeling down in front of her, "Jory, are you gonna be okay? Tell me you'll be fine."

Jory was silently bawling, but her muddled mind must have understood because she straightened up, sniffed, and nodded once. Her teeth appeared to be clenched together. Nightwing sighed and caressed her cheek, shaking his head. "This wouldn't have happened if you didn't act so reckless," he said sincerely. Jory's face went from light comfort to slight betrayal and confusion.

"Wha...?"

"When we get back, we need to have a talk," he said. He was no longer trying to console her; he was reprimanding her. "Rash decisions are not something to rely on, understand me?"

"Nightwing," Starfire challenged, holding Jory closer to her without rebuttal, "Now is not the time. Our daughter has been wounded. We must reassure her, not scold her." For the first time since I met her, Starfire glared. It wasn't a heavy scowl, but a scowl nonetheless. She was obviously furious with her husband for his blunt accusations. I felt the tension in the air, suffocating me; it was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Nightwing hesitated, but eventually he came to nod. He backed off, giving them some room; his face was grim, his jaw set. I swiftly glimpsed at Jory; she was hugging her mom, stubbornly refusing to look at her masked father. I was starting to understand her, how she thought things were never fair, how she envied her brother.

And I thought _I_ had daddy issues.

Without warning, another upsurge of pain shot through my arm, this one worse than before. My grip tightened to an iron grasp as I fought to ignore it, but it was difficult to simply disregard. What made it incredibly unbearable was the last wave, the one that made me actually groan out loud. Heads turned with awareness when I stepped back, doubling over as lightheadedness flooded my brain, making me nauseas. I couldn't see straight; stars were flashing in my vision, blurring everything around me as my lids drooped.

"Remi? What's wrong? Remi?" It was Greg. He was right there, like he always was. But this time I was barely aware of his touch when he tried to hold me upright; my body was slowly going numb, like all the feeling was being drained away from me. I could only tell he was there because I went limp, and yet I wasn't falling – not that I knew of, anyway.

I moaned a second time. My head felt like a balloon.

"She's lost too much blood," my mom informed. Her voice was in echo, so all I heard was '_blood, blood, blood', _just ringing in my ears over and over again.

And then there were too many voices to keep track of.

"Remi? Can you hear me?"

"Try to stay awake, okay?"

"Are you alright? Hey, new girl…"

"Just stay awake…"

"…We'll get help…"

"…Stay…with us…Stay…"

But I was already gone.

**A/N**

**OH MY GOD WOW I LOVE YOU PEOPLE!**

**That was my initial response when I checked my email account yesterday and saw over a dozen notifications from double F dot net about "My Life". Whether it was Favorite Story or Story Alert or even a couple Reviews (which I always love), you guys really conveyed your point, which was: UPDATE, RANDOM, YOU FOOL! And so I did. Granted, it took me a while, but I won't bore you with lame excuses when I should be working on the next chapter – and I promise you, this next chapter will have lots of answers you've all been wondering about, like the mystery surrounding Beast Boy and (drum roll, please) the history behind what happened to him and Raven. Is BB Remi's father, or is he not? Find out what Raven says about it next chapter!**

**ALSO: If anyone has a question about "My Life" that they'd really like an answer to, or if they just want to personally express their adoration or loathing of the story and/or drawings, my PM thing is working now. And I promise to reply to every single message, because **_**that **_**is something I wouldn't dare prolong. Writing a full-length story is difficult work, but replying to my fans/critics is fun!**

**I must leave you now, lots of work to accomplish and et cetera. Keep on reviewing!**

**- random -**

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	15. Raven's Story

My Life

Chapter Fifteen: _Raven's Story_

The first sign I recognized that I was on the verge of wakening was a very distinct smell. It was a chemical odor, one you would think to catch whiff of in a doctor's office, or maybe a science laboratory. A single sniff enflamed my senses. The scent rapidly towed me to the surface of the dark ocean that I've been slowly sinking deeper and deeper into for God knows how long.

My eyes fluttered open, blinked once to check it wasn't my imagination nor a dream, and then again to clear my blurry morning vision. I was greeted with a tile ceiling the color of autumn leaves, each square a different shade of red, orange, or yellow. I was in a bed, a single goldenrod sheet covering me up to my ribs and then neatly folded down. A rectangular fluorescent light dangled from the ceiling above my feet. It emanated a soft white glow that was just enough to brighten the entire room.

"Wha…?" I grumbled, still too groggy to control my mouth's motor. I didn't expect a response to my nonsense, but I got one anyway.

"Finally. I thought you'd sleep forever."

My eyes traveled over the room to land on Jory, who had spoken to me with lacking courtesy as her nose was buried in a teen tabloid magazine. She was sitting up in an identical bed, barely a yard of space between us. Her right leg was stretched out in front of her casually, like there was nothing wrong with it, nothing different; but it remained ostentatious. It was bound in so many bandages that it brought the image of a mummy to the front of my mind. Despite this, she looked like she did on any other day I've seen her; hair straight, clothes smooth, face clean. She must have washed up after the fire.

_The fire!_

I started to push myself up, but once I shifted my weight there was a spasm of pain in my left arm. It was weak, not enough to make me wince considering I've been worse without shedding a single tear. But it was familiar. I glanced down and saw that the midsection of my upper arm was wrapped in bandages and taped. When I turned my head, I came to realize that there was something on my face, too, and my neck. I raised my hand and brushed the fingertips gently over the tender skin, feeling small bumps of rubber that indicated the everyday band-aid. I hoped they weren't the generic kind, with flowers or cartoon characters printed on them. It wouldn't help my situation if I looked like an idiot.

My wounds brought with them recollection of the museum fire – the smoke, the blood, and worst of all the demons. _But they weren't demons, _I retold myself, recalling my theory as well as everything else that happened on my first team mission. It was a nightmare of a night.

_Hang on a minute…_

"How long have I been out?" I asked, trying not to sound like the answer was significant either way.

Jory shrugged. "A couple hours, I think. You needed a blood transfusion, and Raven didn't feel comfortable healing your wounds until you were … restocked. So we came back here and she gave you her blood. She was the only one who matched your type." She paused to look at me over the pages of her magazine, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "You two are really freakishly alike, both in looks and in blood. It's weird."

_Like I haven't heard that one before._

Not bothering to comment, instead I asked, "When you say 'here', where do you mean exactly? Are we in a hospital?" It made sense, the chemical smell and the beds, the whole room actually.

Before Jory could reply, we heard voices from outside the door. They weren't hushed, but they weren't very audible either. Someone was having a low-key conversation with their hand on the doorknob. I didn't know whether to be offended or suspicious, or both.

Suddenly the knob turned and the door opened smoothly, allowing Nightwing to enter the room without trouble. A bit surprised since I was expecting some snobby doctor with glasses and a bad haircut, I wasn't aware when I tried to push my weight up again. The pain in my arm hurt worse this time, and my opposite hand instinctively went to hold it.

"Are you feeling better, girls?" Nightwing inquired, stepping inside the room. He asked the both of us, but his eyes were on me, observing my reaction to my self-ignorance. Jory finally lowered her magazine and smiled, nodding enthusiastically. Something must have changed while I was unconscious; it seemed the dispute between father and daughter had ceased, and all was well again.

"I'm feeling okay, I guess," I spoke modestly, not really knowing my full condition yet. As Nightwing came farther into the room, I spotted the others behind him: my mom first, and then Greg, Darien, and Syrus. All of them were clean and smoke-stain free, changed into fresh clothes and everything. Syrus closed the door after he came in and leaned his back against it, arms crossed as usual. He portrayed an attitude that made me think he was _forced _into being here.

Darien pulled up a chair that was sitting solitarily in the corner of the room and repositioned it between Jory's bed and mine. "Glad to see you've rejoined the world of the living," he said as he sat. I didn't know how much of it was a joke and how much was not. I'm pretty sure it was. Like, ninety-eight percent sure. Yeah.

He flashed me a smile, and I could've sworn the fluorescent light glowed brighter than before for just a second. In the background, I saw Syrus roll his eyes.

Mom walked around the foot of my bed and came to sit on the opposite side of me, feeling my face with the back of her hand. "The fever's left her," she stated, and I could see the relief in her eyes even when nobody else could. "How are you feeling, Remi? Nauseas? Lightheaded at all?"

I thought it over, examining myself through my internal senses. "I think I'm good," I said slowly, making sure I wasn't going to suddenly shout in pain or collapse. "Actually, I feel a bit refreshed. What happened to me?" I questioned vaguely, glancing from my mother's face to Nightwing's, and then lingering a bit on Greg's just as a reminder of how intense his eyes could be when he was worried/relieved/conflicted. I was seeing a lot of this side of him lately.

"Well, what do you remember?" countered Darien.

"All of it. The fire, the fighting, the building collapsing, the creepy flying people, –" I suppressed a shiver. "– and everything else. I was standing by the ambulance when I started to get real dizzy…" I didn't want to give away too much of my moment of weakness. It might sound like I was overreacting if my injuries weren't as bad as I imagined them to be.

"Your arm was cut pretty deeply," Nightwing explained, taking on his serious tone. "A main artery was partially severed and it caused you to almost bleed out, and your other wounds didn't help much." He gestured with a nod of the head at the band-aids on my face and throat, keeping the terms simple for me to understand in my current state. I was both grateful and a little irritated at his assumption that I wouldn't have been able to comprehend the big words, but the feelings were fleeting.

"The blood loss caused you to faint," my mom continued bluntly. "If I didn't have the power to heal, you would have needed major surgery, much more major than a simple blood transfusion. But since this was the case, we transported you to the Tower's infirmary immediately after we realized the seriousness of your injuries."

_So that's where I am, the infirmary._

"I gave you my blood and allowed your body to adjust to the change. I cleaned the cuts and healed the artery, but I wanted to wait for you to wake up before I healed everything else."

"Why didn't you just heal me when I was unconscious?" I asked.

"Because I wanted to be sure your body had fully accepted my blood. If I closed the incisions and my blood was rejected, it wouldn't have been good." She left it to my imagination for the rest of the details. I didn't push it any further; some part of me didn't want to know the whole story.

I glanced over to the others and saw they were all staring, awestruck. Darien's mouth was catching flies. "What?" I demanded, snapping them out of their reverie.

"Nothing, nothing," Darien, Syrus, and Jory all assured, clearing their throats or rubbing their necks in embarrassment.

"It's just … we've never heard Raven talk so much at one time," Greg clarified, laughing a little.

If this were a cartoon, I'd be seeing giant sweat drops on the side of each of their faces. Smothering laughter by pinching my lips together, I exchanged a look with Mom.

"So, will you heal me now?" I pressed, holding out my arm to emphasize how much I wanted to be rid of this burden. The bandages were beginning to itch. She responded by taking my arm in a soft grip with one hand and hovering the other a little less than an inch away from the slash site. Eyes remaining open (unlike when I healed, which I closed my eyes to do), a calming purple aura emanated from her hand, dancing through the space around it and catching my arm in its wake. Already I felt the change.

"So Remi, how did you get that cut anyway?" Greg imposed in an offhanded manner that reminded me of my own style of interrogation.

"You didn't see?" I replied, "You were right there when it happened."

"I felt your hand get pulled out of mine and turned back to see the woman grabbing your leg, so I picked up a beam that collapsed nearby and threw it at her. But after I carried you out, your arm was already bleeding." He seemed bemused, even though the answer was staring him right in the face like his own reflection.

"Acienda did it with her claws," I explained simply. "Duh."

They all looked confused now. "Who?"

"Acienda; it's the woman's name. She said something about prey never escaping her and she grabbed my arm, but then the beam hit her into Caelum and they both knocked into the back of the museum."

Nightwing's posture suddenly straightened, alert like a predator on the hunt. "You know their _names_?" he demanded urgently.

"Yeah."

"When did you learn their names?" Greg said, just as vigilant as his dad.

"When they first attacked me, up in the room where the guards were trapped before." I found it oddly disconcerting that talking about this so soon after it happened didn't bother me one bit. Sure, I got a chill or wanted to gag when I remembered certain parts of the event, but you'd think the entire thing would be on my Major Traumatic Experiences list.

By the expressions on their faces, all of them wanted me to spill the beans on everything I knew about our foes. So, with a sigh, I did just that. I told them everything, from the first sighting of the scratches on the walls to the encounter in the room, first with just Caelum and then with both of them. I voiced every little detail I could remember, quoted every word they said. But it felt like I was missing something, some other piece of information I forgot to mention.

_You forgot to tell them about their strange attitudes towards each other._

_Knowledge! _For once, I was happy to hear its voice inside my head. _What happened to you? You left for so long, I was starting to get hopeful. _

_I'll tell you later. You're in the middle of a debriefing. I shouldn't interrupt. _

In reluctant agreement, I told the others about the way Caelum respected Acienda deeply, and how they obviously shared some sort of connection – brother and sister, perhaps? Or maybe they were in some weird freak-lover relationship? I also mentioned how he offered her the first bite of my neck.

"Gross," Jory uttered, sticking her tongue out in a face of disgust.

"Ditto," said Darien.

"_Damn, _I wish I was in there," Syrus cursed, exasperated. Darien and I both rolled our eyes at the exact same time, and we both noticed it, too. He chuckled, thinking it was funny. I didn't.

There was a short silence, the sound only broken by the soft, quiet hum of my mom's healing aura as she concentrated. Nightwing was in deep thought, too, putting everything I told him into consideration. A few moments later, Mom released me and pulled back. She looked satisfied.

"That should do it," she said, but instead of unwrapping the bandage, she moved on to heal the cuts on my neck. "Tilt your head up," she instructed gently, and the faint purple glow was alight again.

"Hey Raven?" Jory interrupted, her hands anxiously rubbing the mummy bindings around her leg.

"Hm?" Mom hummed without looking away from her work.

"Since you healed me, will there still be scars on my leg?"

Mom didn't answer at first, which indicated that she was either too deep in concentration to have actually heard the question, or she was mulling it over as she worked. Jory's big blue eyes watched her impatiently, fretting.

"There might still be some scar tissue that I couldn't heal. That happens sometimes," she finally said, and Jory's expression turned to that of panic. Somehow, my mom noticed without looking at her, and she quickly added on as an afterthought, "The scars will be faint, though, not distinct enough to be noticeable. Nothing to worry about."

The redhead relaxed a little, but she was still a bit jumpy. I half-expected her to start hyperventilating again, but I guess she proved me wrong.

That was when I noticed a couple of Titans weren't present. I should've realized it before, but I got distracted with all the happenings going on. "Where are Cyborg and Starfire?" I inquired to everyone in general.

It was Greg who answered me this time. "They stayed behind at the museum," he said, "The police needed help digging through the rubble to find the … well, to find _Acienda _and _Caelum, _if you think referring to them by name will make them any less monstrous."

_I never said that,_ I augmented inwardly, but I didn't want to interrupt him just to defend myself pointlessly.

"So did they find them?"

"Yep. Both were buried deep, and they were unconscious, but nobody was sure how long they would stay that way. Who knows how fast these people could recover? So, just in case they woke up, Cy and Starfire escorted them personally to the prison."

"What about their powers?" I reminded him, frowning. "Acienda at least can breathe fire, and both of them are really strong and fast, and they can fly. No regular prison can hold them."

"Exactly," Nightwing chipped in, stepping forward a bit. "That's why Cyborg is fabricating a special containment unit just for them."

"They'll never break out of a prison designed by Cyborg," Darien boasted, "It's impossible. Those two are locked up for good."

"I don't get it," Jory stated.

"What's not to get?" Syrus retorted, inclining forward so he was no longer leaning against the door. His tone turned to that of mockery, like he was talking to a slow person or a young child, or a caveman. "Cyborg builds cage. Bad guys get thrown in cage. Bad guys never leave. Everyone happy." He clapped like something good happened.

"I know, you idiot," she snapped. "I mean, I don't get why we keep talking about what these things could do and say and how they acted, but nobody's asked the money question: _What were they_?"

"Demons?" Darien suggested lamely, glancing around to each of our faces for signs of agreement, but he was met with skepticism. "Well, that's what the security guards said," he added defensively.

"They weren't demons," Mom informed, pulling her hand away from my neck and face. She glanced at Darien. "Demons are from another dimension entirely. It would take some pretty powerful magic to unleash one into our world, let alone two."

"But is it possible?" Greg asked, his face set in concern.

"Yes, but that's not the point. Even if they were demons, they wouldn't be gallivanting on Earth's surface and randomly attacking museums just to eat people and set fires."

"Sounds pretty demonic to me," Syrus retorted.

"But it isn't. They would plan to do something much bigger, much worse."

"How do you know?"

Mom was silent for a minute, irresolute. Her eyes flickered to me for the briefest of moments, so quickly I almost didn't catch it. "I just do," she said, her monotone darker than before. I watched her curiously, but making sure my face didn't show it as I did.

"Lizard people?" Jory offered, breaking the ice. "They _were_ scaly, and they had those claws."

"I'm leaning towards bat people myself," said Darien, "I mean, did you see the wings? They weren't feathered, and I'm pretty sure Pterodactyl is out of the question."

"No," I interrupted, my voice quiet yet unwavering, "I think I know what they were." I paused, wondering if it was a stupid suggestion, wondering what they would think if I was wrong again. The seconds ticked by in suspenseful silence.

"Well?" Syrus said. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Your theory? What is it?"

"Speak up, new girl," Jory added.

"Yeah, share with the class," encouraged Darien.

_Eh, what the hell. _

"I think they're dragon people," I said quickly, keeping my tone impassive and confident despite the looks they suddenly gave me; it was as if I had an extra arm growing out of my neck. "It makes sense, really. Part of them is obviously human, and the other part isn't. They have wings, fangs, claws, scales, slit eyes, they eat raw meat, they breathe fire from their mouths … aren't those all signs of a dragon?"

"Perhaps…" Nightwing muttered. He had a look on his face that said he'd struck inspiration. "Or perhaps it was something else, like a combination of animals made to look like a dragon-human hybrid. Possibly a bat-reptile-human crossbreed."

"How can that be?" Jory asked, puzzled.

"The genes of animals are grafted into the DNA of an unborn child, and when that baby is born, he or she holds some characteristics of the animal or animals they were combined with."

"But who would do that to someone?" Darien asked, appalled.

"I'm not sure." Nightwing walked briskly across the room in the essence of departure. Syrus moved out of his way so he could use the door. "I'll look into it more tomorrow, but not tonight. I plan on checking in with Cyborg and Starfire for an update, see if things are moving smoothly where they are." He paused and turned back to us briskly. "Everyone should probably get some rest. It's late." With that said, he left.

Darien yawned then, his mouth agape for a long while before it shut wearily. He glimpsed at the clock on the wall and groaned. "Nightwing's right. It's almost dawn. I better get some shut-eye before breakfast."

"Good idea," Greg concurred. He glanced at me, his lips twitching upward in a soft grin. "I hope you get better, Remi," he said, his voice silkier than velvet. I almost sank into a deep trance just listening to him, but I would've looked like a fool.

"Thanks," I said, as hushed as a whisper. My throat had suddenly gone bone dry. His smile touched his eyes then, and he nodded. Darien patted the side of my bed in a friendly gesture of farewell and stood from his seat, following Syrus as he left the room after Nightwing.

"Greg?" Jory said sweetly, "Could you be a good big brother for once and help me to my room? I can't stand another minute in this place."

With a dramatic sigh, the black-haired boy went to his sister's bedside and scooped her up effortlessly into his arms. I was reminded of how he held me that way earlier tonight, pressing me to him with a protective force. But when I looked closer, he didn't seem as pleased about it with Jory as he did with me. A second later, the door shut behind them as they, too, departed for the night.

It was just Mom and me now.

"So, how am I looking?" I asked.

Mom pulled her hand away, and the lavender glow faded into nothingness. "All done!" She smiled at me, the way she smiles when nobody's around except for us. I suddenly felt a pang of homesickness, of the old days when it was just her and me against the world. Then I remembered how much that truly sucked and the feeling passed instantly.

"Am I going to have to stay here for the night?" I said.

"I don't think so," she replied, "Jory got to sleep in her room, and you weren't much worse off than she was."

"So I'm free to leave?"

"I hereby grant you freedom."

"Good. Oh, by the way! Before I go to bed, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Mom blinked, concerned. "What is it?"

"It's about tonight," I started awkwardly. The self-anger crept up my spine like it did a couple hours ago. "One of the security guards broke his foot in the museum, and Nightwing asked me to heal it. I tried, I really did, but … I couldn't do it for some reason. The power, it wouldn't work like before." I stared at her, my mind swimming with questions. "Why couldn't I do it?"

"You were thinking about the pain leaving, right?"

"Yeah, I was."

"Well then, my best guess would have to be that even though you were thinking and willing the break to heal, you weren't feeling it. The other times, you healed yourself and Darien because your emotions were screaming at you to do it. You _needed _it to happen. This time, you were simply ordered to do it."

I nodded slowly, seeing the reason. "Is that true with you, too? I thought you could heal people all the time."

"I can, yes. But it was like that for me when I was first starting out, and then I learned to control it without the emotive uproar." Mom sighed a little. "All in all, you just weren't ready to use your powers in action. Not yet. You've barely had a day's worth of training."

I _know! _That's what I've been trying to tell everyone!

"Maybe," I said.

"I'll have to give Nightwing a piece of my mind," she muttered with dark humor. "Too much pressure is bad for a girl just beginning in this world."

"World?"

"You know. The superhero thing."

"Oh. Right." I smiled a little, relishing the small talk. "Thanks."

"My pleasure. Now, let's get you unwrapped." She started to pluck the band-aids from my face and neck. Her fingers were gentle as she did so, careful. I felt the sticky residue on my exposed skin once they were off; they were cool in the infirmary's chilly room temperature.

"I've been wondering…" my mother began, placing the ruined band-aids on a tray next to my bed. "Are you still up for that private training session this afternoon? Because, if not…"

"Why don't we have it tomorrow?" I suggested. Mom smiled.

"That's what I was offering. You'll need your rest today."

I nodded and looked down at my hands, my slender pale fingers locked in between one another. My mind started to wander, drifting back in time to the events of the former day, and the days before. Mom had moved on to unwrapping the taped bandages on my upper arm. When the pale flesh was completely exposed, I curious ran my index finger along the skin; it was completely unblemished.

Out of the blue, the image of the photograph – the one of Mom and Beast Boy – came to the front of my mind. My eyes, which had been dozing off slightly, suddenly realigned and I looked at her.

I might as well take this chance. We were alone, for the first time in days. I had to ask her about it. It was now or never. But how should I say it? Should I start subtly, perhaps tell her about my discovery of the Ghost Floor? Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll ease myself into it, talk about it one step at a time.

"Was Beast Boy my dad?"

I'd said it without meaning to – the thought spoken aloud, the question slipped out. _So much for subtle, _I thought.

My mom froze, her hand tensing around the bandages. If the cut were still there, I'd probably be in massive pain right about now; thankfully, this was post-therapeutic. For a moment she said nothing, her eyes wide in shock, her mind in a trance of thought. I had touched a nerve. I both loved and hated that I did.

"Mom–"

"It's late, Remi," she interrupted curtly, and I could see she was trying to regain her composure that was lost during my surprise attack. "You should go get some sleep."

"No," I said, the sternness in my voice surprising myself, "I'm not sleeping. I won't rest until you answer my question."

She looked at me then, pleaded at me with her eyes; she really didn't like this subject. Well, for once I'll say _boo hoo, _because this was my only chance at real answers. "Remi–" she tried again. I wouldn't let her.

"I wanna _know_, Mom. I wanna know why you never told me about him. I wanna know what happened between you two, and if it had anything to do with me. I want the truth, instead of your lame ass excuse of 'I don't know'. I'm _sick _of 'I don't know'! Is he my father or not?"

I was catching my breath at the end of my tirade, the rapid inhales and exhales of my lungs the only noise in the room. Mom had closed her eyes and was contemplating on the situation at hand. She must've known this day would come. Did she really expect me to be okay with living my life without ever knowing my own father?

Finally, she looked at me. I saw the pain in her eyes even though she was trying desperately to conceal it with darkness. With any other person, it would've gone unnoticed. But I was an empath's daughter; now I'm beginning to realize what that meant.

"You want to know about Beast Boy?" she said, her voice coldly impassive. "You want to know what went wrong? Well … then I'll tell you. But you might as well know the whole story first.

"I was eighteen when I first became romantically involved with Beast Boy. Before that, we had the rockiest friendship, and it took us years to get used to each other. It didn't help that we were complete opposites of each other. I was a very anti-social person, if you can imagine. With my emotions all locked up inside me, I didn't talk very often; there weren't many things beyond sarcastic remarks worth talking about, and my favorite interests were horror novels and the color black. I was the gothic girl of the Teen Titans.

"But Beast Boy was another story. He was a free-spirited fool who always wormed himself in and out of trouble. He told the worst jokes over and over again, and he had the most peculiar behavior when it came to daily activities. Nothing he ever did was close to normal.

"Then again, I wasn't normal, either. So maybe that's why we fell in love." She paused, looking across the room at nothing in particular. I continued to watch her, listening with so much ferocity that my ears burned.

"By the age of nineteen, Starfire and Nightwing – of course, he was still known as Robin back then – had gotten married. They were starting a life together, a family. Beast Boy thought it was wonderful, and so did I, even if I didn't say it out loud. Since that day, we'd had a few conversations about settling down ourselves. They were various in degree of seriousness; Beast Boy liked to joke his way through a vital discussion. It was just in his nature. But because of my powers, I could always tell the times he truly meant what he was saying. We even talked about getting married. But we were young, in love … and stupid. God, I can't believe how naïve I was being."

There was a brief emotional tension that lingered in the air like a foul stench, but an invisible wind soon cleansed the atmosphere.

"Almost a year after Nightwing and Starfire's wedding, I started getting a bad sensation whenever I was around him. There was something different about our emotional aura, something secretive. Activities that used to be fun and romantic became full of anxiety and confusion. Beast Boy was hiding something from me, I could tell. But I didn't know what to make of it. Yet."

My heartbeat quickened as the meat finally fleshed up the bones of this story.

"In my youthful state of mind, I kept trying to think positive, to be optimistic about this whole thing. I even convinced myself that Beast Boy was just on nerve's end because he was planning on proposing to me and he didn't want me to find out. This theory got me unreasonably excited, which made what happened next even worse of a disappointment.

"I was twenty years old when I finally did some snooping around in his room and discovered what I had been denying this whole time. Beast Boy … had been cheating on me."

I tried not to gasp, I really did. But it must have slipped out anyway, because my mother looked at me then. The reflection of tears was hidden in the depths of her dark, tortured gaze. I felt her resentment, as well as her sorrow, like it was my own.

"At the time, I wasn't my right, well-minded self. I had been feeling sick for the past week and the faint illness was messing with my mood and my powers of perception. It also drove me to angrily confront Beast Boy about the other woman in his life. I admit, I got too pissed off to be proud of, but not enough to be ashamed of. Either way, I scared the truth out of him, and he confessed that he had been cheating on me for a little under a month. A month, and I had no idea. A _month, _and I was oblivious to everything!

"He claimed that he didn't plan on it. He said he didn't mean to, that he didn't do it to hurt me. It just … happened. Like the rain would _happen _to fall and soak you from head to toe on the one day you didn't bring an umbrella. I was … well, I suppose the words 'utterly distraught' would fit the category nicely."

She stopped then, and I was at a loss for words. Nightwing had made Beast Boy out to be this lost hero, but Mom's saying he's a cheating bastard who broke her heart. I know I should believe her over him, but still. It was hard to absorb this change in perspective.

"When I confronted him," Mom continued, her expression still deadpan, "Beast Boy not only shattered our relationship by confirming my suspicions, but he told me he was leaving me. Leaving the Titans, for that matter. He said he was marrying this other woman, because he had gotten her pregnant."

"Really?" I burst, unable to help myself. "He got her pregnant? But … who _was _this other woman?"

My mother shook her head. "I never asked. I didn't care. It didn't matter to me who she was. It only mattered that I was losing him to her.

"You should know that Beast Boy was an idiot, a complete bonehead, but he was still an honorable and respectful man. When he learned that he was going to have a kid, he felt it was his rightful duty to care for the mother and raise the child. He was raised to believe that it would be irresponsible if he didn't. I didn't understand at the time, nor did I appreciate his actions. But I get it now, why he did it. He could have abandoned his baby to be with me, but he would never have forgiven himself if he did. I respect his decision now."

I waited, but there was no more after that. Mom went silent, staring across the room again. It went on like this for a solid while as I flipped through the facts of this story like papers in a file. It took me a bit to realize something.

"So you knew all along?" I asked vaguely.

She turned to me, her eyebrows knitted together. "I'm sorry? Knew what?"

"That Beast Boy was alive. That he wasn't killed or kidnapped, he just ran off to marry the mother of his kid."

She nodded, looking a bit sheepish as she did so. "He left one morning without saying goodbye to anyone, and even though he didn't make me promise not to say anything, I kept the truth a secret from the Titans. I found it hard to admit that this was all actually happening. I think a part of me felt like it would be better if he were dead, even though he wasn't. Everyone just thought he was, eventually."

"When the Titans were searching for him," I said slowly, "Did you ever find out where he was? Did he ever tell you?"

Mom shook her head sadly. "I knew he went into hiding to avoid all the hassle of dealing with the Titans, but he didn't even tell _me_ where he went. It really was like he vanished off the face of the earth."

"Huh. But, there's something that's still bugging me. If you knew Beast Boy was still alive, why did you cry on the day of his funeral?"

She tilted her head at me, her blue-violet gaze narrowing. "I didn't cry at his funeral." I watched her, suddenly feeling like I was saying too much. But I couldn't stop myself.

"No, not at the actual ceremony, but you did before it."

"How do you…" she trailed off, her mind searching her memory. "You were only five that day. How could you remember?"

_I was right? _Did that mean the dream I had last night was actually a resurfaced memory? Either way, I had to say something to explain.

"I, uh, … Nightwing told me about the funeral yesterday, and the memory just … I don't know … came to me, I suppose." I looked at her with hopeful expectation. This was hardly the time to discuss something as strange as my dream-memories.

She seemed to buy it, but I wasn't certain. Her mind wandered again, her expression hard but her eyes wistful. She was quiet for a long while before she found it in herself to answer. Her voice was hoarse with grief. "I was crying that day … because I thought of Beast Boy's funeral as the last chance I ever had of being with him. I still loved him. I was still _in _love with him, despite his choices. And what made it worse was that he never even knew it." Her voice shook a little on the last few words, and I reached out to hold her hand. She squeezed it gratefully, smiling at me in sad reassurance.

_I haven't seen her this torn up in a long time, _I realized, the scene before me rather upsetting. I hated seeing my mother this way. It was heartbreaking.

Mom swallowed the grieving outburst that I could sense was swelling up inside of her and managed to continue. "I was just … trying to let go one last time. That's why, Remi. That's why I cried that day. And that's why I haven't cried since."

I turned away, unable to bear to ask my next question – the most critical question of them all – while looking at my sorrowful mother. "Where do _I _fit in to all of this? What's my connection?"

"Isn't it obvious, dear?" Mom replied, and I looked back at her hesitantly, nervously. What did she mean, obvious? "That sickness, the illness that I told you I had the week before Beast Boy left … it was morning sickness. I hadn't realized until the next month that I was pregnant with you. You surprised me, actually, and that alone disconcerted me because my powers should have responded to the growing life inside of me."

"They didn't?"

"No, not at all. I was like any other pregnant woman in the world. Somehow, you were cloaked from me, disconnected from me even though we were two of the same. I couldn't even tell if you were a boy or girl! I was worried it would continue like that even after you were born, but fortunately you opened up to me like a book."

I didn't quite know how I felt about that just yet.

"So you were pregnant with me before Beast Boy left," I confirmed. An exciting realization burst in the bottom of my stomach. My voice rose a bit in pitch. "That means … he _has _to be my dad, doesn't he? Unless … you were unfaithful to him as well?"

"I wasn't the type to cheat, if you put it bluntly," she answered sourly, and the brick walls surrounding her emotions began to crack. "I hadn't had … intercourse with anyone else while we dated, during the time you were … well…" She let it trail awkwardly, and I found myself coughing to cover up the awkward silence that abruptly settled between us. I didn't want to hear about _that_; she didn't want to tell me, obviously. It wasn't a necessary thing to discuss.

So.

"I felt horrible," my mother said, finally breaking the silence.

"What?"

"When I was pregnant with you. It was probably the … well, I wouldn't say the worst experience of my life, but it was a very trying one."

"How come?" I would think it would be a marvelous experience to feel someone's growth inside of you. That's what all mothers say, right?

"Well, alongside the fact that you were completely shut off from me, I had gone through a very distraught phase over Beast Boy. He loved me – I could tell he meant it every time he said it to me – and yet he left me for a woman and child that were second in timing to his first love and daughter."

My expression twitched when I heard this. My ears, they weren't used to hearing that I was someone else's daughter and not just Mom's. _I have a father, _I thought, the words chilling my blood. The mere idea seemed so foreign that I had to repeat it over and over. _I have a father. I have a father. A _father. _Someone I can call Dad. _

"If only he knew…" whispered my mom, so quietly I had to strain my ears to hear.

"Knew what?" I questioned softly.

"That I was pregnant. If he'd stayed just a little while longer, we could have discovered it together. He could have stayed." She looked at me with emotion-filled eyes. "We could have been a family."

I took her hand and squeezed gently. _We are a family. _I wanted to say it out loud, but something stopped from doing so. She means a nuclear family, with two parents instead of one. She's always wanted me to have a father, but couldn't find it in herself to move on from Beast Boy, even though he married someone else years ago. It was quite a predicament.

I thought back to the picture, and mentally smacked myself in the forehead. How could I forget? "If Beast Boy is my dad," I started, "Then, why don't I look like him?"

Mom's brow furrowed and she sighed. "That's something I've been wondering for years, Remi. The timing matches up, and it's perfectly reasonable to believe Beast Boy is your real father, but when you were born I was more confused than before."

"Because I looked like your clone?"

She nodded. "There was no resemblance to him at all. And when I thought back, I realized it should have been impossible for you to even exist."

My back straightened with interest. "What do you mean?"

"We were always protected. And we never slipped up, _ever._ So for me to get pregnant when there was no open opportunity … it's the only thing that doesn't make sense."

"And the fact that I'm not green does?"

My mother's eyes suddenly opened wider as she remembered something. "Oh! Cyborg, he had a theory about why you and Beast Boy held no resemblance. He said it was because the mutation in Beast Boy's cells that allowed him to transform into animals wasn't hereditary, so Beast Boy's qualities that were linked to his powers – say, his skin or fangs – wouldn't be passed down to his offspring."

"Can't you say 'child'? 'Offspring' makes me sound like a bred animal." I thought it was a reasonable theory, more reasonable than the idea of dragon people, and _that_ apparently was right.

Then what Mom said to me clicked.

"Wait, wait … Cyborg knew? He _knew_ Beast Boy was my dad and didn't even _say _anything?" I was shocked, appalled, utterly awestruck.

"Well, of course not," Mom replied offhandedly. "I told him not to." She fidgeted in her seat at my bedside like she couldn't take the stillness anymore. Getting to her feet, she picked up the tray with my bloody bandages and tapes on it and walked across the room to the trashcan.

"You told him _not _to?" I asked, stretching every word with increasing disbelief. "_Why?_ He's my father! I had a right to know–"

"But Cyborg didn't have a right to tell you," she cut me off, tipping the tray down to the trashcan and dumping the contents inside. They landed with a crumpling thud. "The only reason he knew at all was because it was plainly obvious to him; Beast Boy was his best friend, and he was a scientist. I was planning on telling you eventually, when you fully accepted the truth about me being a Titan. I hadn't expected you to figure it out on your own."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, thanks for your faith in my intelligence," I muttered sarcastically. The aura of the room was soon turning bad-tempered; Mom and I don't usually argue, but I'm guessing if we ever dished it out for real, there'd be mental bloodshed.

Not that that would ever happen.

"I'm not saying you're incapable," Mom said, setting the tray down and flicking the sink on to wash her hands. The sound of the running water echoed around the quiet room like we were in a cave. "I just wanted it to be the right time. And _I_ wanted to be the one to tell you."

"How did you convince him not to tell me?" I asked warily.

She shrugged. "With a little not-so-fake threatening… Cyborg initially said he thought you should know immediately, but I convinced him that if he uttered a single word to you about it before me, he'd have his head sticking out of his ass … oops, I cursed! I haven't cursed in a long time." I looked at her, saw her lips upturn in a smile, saw her blue-violet eyes sparkle with surprised amusement at herself. It was such a relief from the past half-hour talking about the history with Beast Boy that I grinned, too.

"Do the other Titans know, too?" I asked.

"No, only Cyborg. But I bet if Nightwing took the time to actually sit and think about it, he'd figure it out."

"So then, Greg and Syrus and them don't know, either?"

Mom shook her head, surprised. "Of course not. I'm not even sure they know who Beast Boy is. The Titans … don't talk about him much."

"So the Titans really think he'd dead?" I confirmed, a bit unsettled.

She nodded slowly, a little sadly even. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything either."

"You want me to lie?" I asked, astonished. "But … what difference would it make if they knew I was Beast Boy's daughter? They think he's dead."

She hesitated, drying her hands with a towel. "Well, if you _really _wanted to let everyone know your father abandoned you and got himself killed – so they think – then be my guest. I just thought you'd want to avoid all the pity parties." She shrugged, as if this was nothing. I scowled at her.

"Fine. I won't say anything," I agreed, not sure of the real reason why she wanted this a secret.

Mom glanced at the clock on the wall, and sighed. "That's enough of a history lesson for now. If you want, we'll talk more about it tomorrow during training, but there's not much else to say."

"How about what he was like?" I offered, strange giddy excitement in my tone. "What you two used to talk about? Where you went? When you realized you fell in love? Or maybe–"

"Okay! Alright!" she exclaimed, laughing a little. "It sounds like you want to know every little detail of our lives! I had no idea you were this inquisitive about it."

_Well of course I am! He's my long-lost father. I want to know everything about him, even if he did unintentionally abandon me._ Since when was I so forgiving? I realized, I've been way more trusting ever since Greg and Darien became my new friends. Before I came here, I thought, _To Hell with who my father is! He's not important to me if I'm nonexistent to him. _Just when did that change?

I didn't know I was this inquisitive on the subject, either. _Sheesh, I've changed too much since I met the Titans. They're rubbing off on me, I think._

"I'm going to bed," Mom announced, walking over to the door. "You can make it to your room by yourself?"

"I'll be good," I said, pulling the thin sheet off of me and swinging my legs over the bedside. I was still wearing the jeans and sweater I wore to the museum fire, only the sleeve of my sweater was torn and dried blood crumbled to the floor when I moved. _I really did loose a lot of blood, _I realized.

"Hey, Mom?" I said quickly, before she had a chance to leave the room.

"Hm?"

"Do you ever miss him still?" I asked, looking at her sympathetically.

Mom looked at me, the truth of it in the air, in her eyes.

"Almost every day," she said. "Get some rest, Remi. I love you."

"Love you, too."

She smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. It was the last thing I noticed before she shut the door behind her as she left.

I sighed and shook my head. _It seems like too much to process, doesn't it? _I thought.

_Well, it should be,_ Knowledge answered. _But still, isn't it exciting to know the truth? That you really do have a dad?_

Slowly, my face stretched out in a smile, one I couldn't resist. "Yeah," I said out loud, "It is."

* * *

**A/N – Annual apology for not updating as soon as expected. I'm trying to get in a weekly schedule, and it should be going faster when summer finally arrives and school lets out. I have finals to worry about next week, so I'll probably be even later in updating the next chapter, but we can always hope for miracles. **

**How'd you like the chapter? Did you expect Beast Boy had cheated, or was it a complete surprise? If you were in his place, what would you have done?**

**Random loves reviews! =]**


	16. Black Dress

My Life

Chapter Sixteen:_ Black Dress_

It's been two weeks since the night of the fire. I sort of wish the memory of it would disappear. I wish a lot of memories would vanish, would filter out of my mind like water through a sieve, and the pebbles of good thought would be all that's left behind. But whenever I try not to think about that night, I can't help but remember every detail. I remember the feeling of the soot settling in my eyes and hair and up my nose. I remember the heat of the dying flames and the sick feeling that the building was about to collapse at any given moment. But most of all, I remember the look in Caelum and Acienda's eyes as they were seconds away from taking my life and devouring me.

Truly, it was one of the scariest nights of my life. So why can't I stop thinking about it with such good senses? Why don't I shudder or scream at the mere reflection of that terrifying ordeal?

Because it was the same night I learned about my father. It was the same night the truth about my parents was finally revealed to me. For the first time, I didn't have to say "I wonder…" or ask questions without getting answers. I know the answers now. I know what I've been wondering about for the past sixteen years of my life.

Have you ever lost a family member on your birthday? Or got in a car accident on a particularly good Christmas? That's how I feel right now – the good and the bad were trying to balance themselves out.

I thought about all of this on the early summer evening of the last Friday of June, sprawled on my stomach across the soft comforts of my rounded bed. My hands were up in front of me, absently flipping the front of my communicator open and closed, open and closed. It was solid black. Shadows of the setting sun crept into my room from the window, spreading farther and farther up the dark walls and kissing the ceiling before slowly fading into total darkness. The sun had gone over the horizon; dusk had arrived.

Twelve days ago, Nightwing went in to interrogate Acienda and Caelum in an attempt to find out where they came from and what they are. He wasn't able to get anything out of them except crude remarks, though, so he decided to take a sample of their DNA instead. Within the confines of Cyborg's escape-proof jail cells, he had no trouble getting a hair and skin sample. And it turns out I was right, sort of. The results of the DNA testing showed that both of them are ninety-two percent human, five percent komodo dragon (the largest lizard in the world), and three percent bat. "They're hybrids," Nightwing had explained, "Someone had genetically altered their DNA, and the fire-breathing and carnivorous nature seemed to just be a queer side-effect that made them seem like dragon people." Whoever did that to those people must be crazy, and they might still be doing it right now to others. So Nightwing authorized an investigation to find out.

The next day, all the Titans took me by surprise by declaring me an official Teen Titan "for protecting the citizens of Jump City and risking your own life to save a fellow teammate". That's what Nightwing had said. He sounded so proper saying it, though, so I couldn't tell if he truly meant it. I saved his daughter, so he probably did. If I didn't think it was a big deal at first, it was because I was in shock. Once I overcame the initial astonishment, however, I entered a state of doubt. Me? A Teen Titan? For real? _Who would've thought? _Knowledge had said sarcastically, _The only non-Titan child of the original Titans becoming a Teen Titan as well. I didn't expect that, did you? Golly gee! It's so … out of the blue! I'm blind sighted with surprise! I'm–_

After I told it to shut its trap, I accepted the communicator and the title. Now, I really was part of the team. I was a superhero. With friends and family by my side. It was getting harder and harder to believe that less than a month ago I was the school loner, the lunatics at Sun Valley High called students shouting obscenities and squirting ketchup at me whenever they got a chance, just for a good hearty laugh. Of course, their hearts were blacker than mine, picking me in particular for a reason I never quite understood. I was just too different, I guess. But now that I actually _had_ friends, it was even harder to comprehend why I had such a difficult time obtaining them before. Most of my life was spent believing that I was simply incapable of forming a bond of friendship with anyone, that there was something wrong with me that drove everyone around me into attack mode.

_But what about your mother? _Knowledge had pointed out the same night I was honored. I barely started when its voice vibrated from deep within my mind; I had fully gotten used to its interruptions by then. _We both know she always loved you, was always your friend._

_I know that now, of course. But … when I was nine, I got it into my head that Mom only liked me because she _had_ to. We were family, blood-related, so she was required to love me. That's what I thought._ _But when I learned about child abuse and abandonment, I realized that if my mom did secretly hate me along with everyone else, she would have done those horrible things to me._

_So you concluded that she must really love you, _Knowledge had summed up.

_Not just love me, but like me, too. I knew from then on to trust her with everything I had in me, because she was my only real_ _friend._

Now I had more. I had the Titans. I had Greg. I had Darien. Heck, even Jory was starting to turn around. Syrus was a different story, and if we ultimately never end up on good terms, whatever. It'll be a pain in my ass having an enemy on the same team as me, but I can deal.

The same week I received my new place as a Teen Titan, I got my hand's biometrics scanned into the Tower's system, too. Now I can enter or leave the Tower through the main door whenever I want.

I belong here. I believe that more than anything else now.

But don't think that the last two weeks have been all fun and games and wasted time. Every day since the museum fire, I've been training. And training hard, might I say. Now that I'm a Teen Titan, I never want to let down my teammates like I did the last time. I don't want to be a burden, either, or someone who gets in the way all the time. So I've been pushing myself harder than ever to learn martial arts, putting in more than an hour a day with Nightwing or Greg or Darien. I have to give them credit – they were a huge help, and still are. And if I forget something they taught me, Knowledge remembers, so I learn everything faster than any of the other Titans did.

And then in the evenings, I would retreat to my mother's room for an hour session of meditation with her. The sudden silence and serenity of the night is incredibly peaceful, and it calms and prepares me for the next day of vigorous work. I love to meditate. There's just nothing like it that I've ever experienced, and according to Mom it's helping me develop my healing and other powers. Not only do I meditate during this time, but my mom has been teaching me about how her powers work, giving me tips and telling me tricks to how she improved them when she was young and living in Azarath.

As I clicked shut the communicator front, I spotted my reflection in the shiny black finish. I stared into the mind-drifting pupils of my eyes, and suddenly I recalled a discussion I'd had with Knowledge last Sunday morning. I had woken up with a question just randomly in the front of my mind, feeling like a thought you sometimes get when you listen in to someone else's conversation, even though the topic is about something different altogether. The question was: _Why haven't I been hearing Fear inside of my head?_

_What do you mean? _Knowledge had countered.

_I mean … the fire had to have been the scariest event I ever experienced, and that's saying something. I would've thought, if what you explained before had any truth in it, that I'd be hearing Fear or someone similar – is there an emotion named Panic?_

_I don't think so, _the voice had said doubtingly, _and I'm actually glad that you brought this up. You're right – Fear _would _have been let loose that night. You haven't been hearing another voice because I was restraining the emotion while you were fighting those … "dragon" people._

_First, _I'd corrected, _I wasn't fighting them; I was fleeing from them. There's a huge difference._

_Whatever._

_And second … what do you mean, restraining? Like, holding back? Literally?_

_Yep. Weren't you wondering why I wasn't pitching in during the battle with some helpful tips?_

_Well, I was kind of thinking of other things, _I'd muttered, rolling my eyes._ Take "trying not to get eaten", for example…_

_I'll ignore that, _Knowledge had huffed. _Anyway, I wasn't there to help verbally because I was busy helping in a more discreet manner. Your fright had reached climactic, and Fear was on the verge of releasing. But if it was freed during a situation as critical as yours, all you would have felt was panic, and you wouldn't have been able to focus._

_So … you're saying you saved me? _I had asked, eyebrows raised. _But you did it in an inconspicuous way?_

_Yeah, I guess so._

_Looks like almost everybody got their chance to rescue me that night._

_You're welcome, _Knowledge had said, and then it laughed. It was strange and echoing, like it was emanating from within a cave instead of my mind. Hell, what was the difference, really?

Suddenly, back in real time, my reverie broke when the communicator began to vibrate. With a start and a silent squeak of surprise, my hands stumbled as I tried to open it up again – a task that, up until a moment ago, was so easy to accomplish. _"Doo-doo-doo-DAdoo-doo-doo-dadoo"_ it jingled. I finally opened it up and the small round screen flickered to life. Greg's face popped up, and he smiled with all the light of the world when he saw me. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning in return. I still didn't like to smile in front of others, not even Greg.

"Hey, Remi!" he greeted. His red eyes flared on the small screen. "Are you ready yet? We're going to leave soon."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, puzzled. But then it hit me. _Oh, shit!_

"Shampoo?" he reminded kindly. "The club? Leaving at six-thirty? Any of this ringing any bells?"

"Yeah. Now I remember. I got a little preoccupied, and I guess I forgot." I scrambled off my bed and headed over to my wardrobe, seeking decent clothes. Tonight, the gang and I were going to drive down to an all-ages club called Shampoo. It was the weirdest name for a club, but whatever. I wasn't particularly excited about it, which would explain why it slipped my mind so easily. We chose tonight to go because it was the first night all of our parents were too busy to give a crap about what we did. My mom was at the police station, assisting the cops in their investigation of a serial rapist case; a couple days ago signs of a psycho killer targeting women started to sprout suspicions. Nightwing would have gone himself if Starfire hadn't reminded him – to his embarrassment, as he had forgotten – that it was their anniversary and they had dinner reservations at the hottest restaurant in Jump City. And Cyborg was on patrol.

"I'll be down in a little bit," I assured Greg.

"Tell her she's got five minutes or we're leaving without her!" shouted Syrus from the background.

"You can't ask a girl to be ready in five minutes!" I heard Darien retort. "It's impossible, right?"

"Oh, for the love of God!" I heard Jory swear.

"I'm serious!" Darien laughed. "They need, like, an hour to do their hair, another hour to do their make-up…"

Good thing I don't care about any of that. Well, tonight maybe I should, but I don't anyway. I rummaged through my drawers for a good pair of black jeans, ones without holes for once. I found a pair hibernating at the bottom and dusted them off.

"Remi, are you still there?" Greg's voice asked. I looked back at the screen.

"I'm hurrying," I told him.

"I know, but I just thought I should warn you."

"Warn me?" I asked.

"Jory got too impatient. She's on her way up."

_Damn. _"Thanks. I gotta go."

"Alright. See you in a few."

I shut my communicator with a _click_ and sifted through my shirts like my life depended on it. Almost all of them were black, but I managed to find a dark blue v-neck blouse that was probably more preferable for this "occasion". Changing into the jeans and the shirt, I brushed my fingers through my black-violet hair until it was acceptable.

Then someone – and we all know who that someone is – knocked on my door. "Come on out! Let's see how bad you look," she said with an irritated sigh. Quickly, I slid on my black sneakers and grabbed my nice leather jacket, slipping my communicator into the right pocket. Before Jory could start another round of knocks, I opened the door and stood before her like an awkward model.

"Oh my God, you are _so _underdressed!" she exclaimed in disappointment, shaking her head. She herself was wearing a black miniskirt, a striped hot pink tank, and matching high heels that were open-toed. I noticed her toenails were painted white. I never understood the meaning of white nail polish. Wasn't the point of painting your nails to decorate them, to add color?

Jory's ginger hair was up in a ponytail, and some of the long strands that were tied back were also curled in tight, mechanical ringlets. She reminded me of a cheerleader with too much prep bursting from her bubble.

"You need to change," she ordered me. I glared at her menacingly, but it had no effect. How unfortunate. She took my wrist in her hand and starting to drag me down the hall. My door traitorously closed automatically once we walked out of range.

"Why? I look fine," I argued, twisting my arm easily from her grip and confused in where she was taking me. She turned around to face me and started to list off on her fingers, counting one at a time.

"First of all, 'fine' isn't okay. This is your first time to Shampoo, and you must make a good impression or you'll never be cool – not that that's possible, anyway, so don't get your hopes up. _Secondly_, I refuse to be seen with someone dressed as poorly as you. My record will be ruined from the start. It's my first time there, too, you know!"

No. I _didn't_ know. Why, with the way she talks about it, she makes it sound like she's been going there every night of her teenaged life.

"Third, you look so dull without make-up and frankly it's revolting. I don't know why you never wear it. And fourth … you do realize we're going to a crowded place? With no air conditioning? In the summer?"

I glanced down again at my tight jeans and jacket; the last point was the only one that actually made sense to me. I'd be sweating my ass off in this outfit.

"Maybe I shouldn't go."

I half-turned back towards my bedroom, my mood suddenly sullen. But Jory caught my arm, stopping me. I looked back at her in surprise. Her expression had softened slightly – it was barely noticeable, but the subtle hint of compassion was there all the same. Or, it might be pity. "Don't be such a downer," she said, "Just … come on. You can borrow something of mine." She started to pull me the other way again, and I let her drag me along, more out of numb revelation than of consent.

Halfway to her room, Jory pulled out her communicator and flipped it open. While mine was completely black with a white T on the front, her's was a soft bubblegum pink. The communicators were all color-coded so we wouldn't get them confused, kind of like cell phones. And the colors were personalized, in a way. Greg's was a cherry red, Syrus's was sky blue, and Darien's was neon yellow.

Jory typed in a four-digit number code on the small pad at the bottom (it was how we could call specific people; everyone has a different code, and I spent half of last week trying to memorize the codes for the Titans as well as my friends) and waited about three seconds. The screen flickered to life, and from my walking perspective I saw a miniature Darien.

"Give me thirty minutes with her," she debated into the communicator, like I wasn't even in the room with her, "You won't be sorry once we're done."

"By then we'll be leaving too late, and it'll be impossible to get past the front door," Darien pointed out. "How about ten minutes?"

"Twenty."

"Fifteen."

Jory let out a reluctant sigh, but nodded. "Fine. Fifteen … give or take a few."

"See you then, Blue," Darien said, and then the screen went black. I heard Jory mutter under her breath in frustration, but the words were too incoherent to understand. She returned the communicator to her skirt pocket and stopped in front of a door with her name on it. I was a bit hesitant about going inside, afraid of what I might see but curious at the same time. It was the first time I was in a bedroom other than my own.

Jory's bedroom is strangely proportioned and not as big as I expected. It was probably three-quarters of the size of my room, maybe even a little less than that. When we first entered, there was a brief inner hallway that you had to pass through before it opened up to the rest of the room. A queen-sized bed was set in the corner at the opposite right, and next to it was a short, funky-looking nightstand with a tall lamp. Beside that was a loveseat that was set beneath a big arched window. But it wasn't a bay window, I noticed smugly, feeling even fonder of my awesome bedroom. There was a rug in the middle of the floor with a big spiral of color that circled down to the middle, and long frilly pieces of yarn stuck out on the ends, catching on our feet as we walking across the room. It was toned in pastels, the walls an egg white while the furniture and carpet obtained all the color. It smelled like candy.

What really caught my attention, however, was the one wall to the left of the hallway entrance. It was composed entirely of mirrors, with slight separations dividing them into four different pieces. They reminded me of the mirrors you see in a ballet studio, and if you looked at it with a vague mind, the reflection actually made the room seem bigger than it really was. Maybe that was the intent?

I was just starting to wonder where the dressers were when Jory snatched up something from her nightstand. She turned around and I realized it was a remote. But it wasn't like any remote I had ever seen; there were only two buttons.

"What's that for?" I asked, walking closer to inspect.

Jory smirked haughtily. "Check _this_ out." She pressed the top button, and a low electronical sound buzzed from the mirror wall. The separation lines began to move, to bend outward, and the entire wall shifted into two parts. It opened in the center, and when they had completely pulled away, I bit my lip in nervous anxiety at what had been unveiled.

I was wrong when I said her room was smaller than mine. Because behind the mirror wall was a huge walk-in closet that was about the same dimension as the actual room, so tremendous in size and greatness that I gulped just by looking at it. There were hangers and hangers of clothes towering over our heads on both sides, and millions of various shoes were beneath them in racks and boxes, all neatly organized. I looked across the long isle that was straight down the middle of the beastly walk-in and saw a large dresser with five drawers on each side of the chair and a big mirror shaped like a heart. The rest of the remaining wall that was showing was painted plum purple and plastered over with posters of boy bands and rock stars. I wondered if these were the composers of the songs Jory was listening to on her MP3 player the first time we met.

Jory walked in from behind me and spread out her arms like one of those girls on _The_ _Price_ _is_ _Right_. "Epic, isn't it?" she gloated, beaming excitedly.

"Yeah, it's … very impressive."

"Well, let's not waste any time," she replied, "Look for something you like. _Anything_ I have is better than what you're wearing, trust me." Jory turned away and began to sort through the vast selection on the right side of the closet. So, I did the same with the left, examining each piece of clothing with a heart that kept growing heavier with regret. I appreciated how Jory was being so "nice" tonight – if that's what you call it – even if it was rather spontaneous of her; but everything she had was preppy, stylish, and girly – the three things I was _not _and didn't want to _be._

"Jory, I can't …" I started.

"Hmm?" Jory mumbled without turning around.

"I can't wear any of your clothes," I rebuffed, "They just … they wouldn't look good on me."

"How do you know? You didn't try any of them on yet." She pulled out an outfit of a tan tee and a white miniskirt, looked down at her own attire, and put it back immediately. "Too similar," she muttered.

"Look, I just don't think it would work," I said as nicely as I could. My feet started to shuffle back out of the closet in a slow attempt to leave. "I don't want to wear something that … isn't me."

"Well, then I have just the thing to solve that problem," Jory said. She pulled down something from its hanger and held it out in front of her. It was a black dress, seeming typical and ordinary at first. But Jory turned it around to show the back and the first thing I saw was how low-cut it was. I shook my head vigorously, eyes wide.

"No."

"But it's perfect!"

"No!" I stated more firmly. "I refuse to wear something so … exposing."

She rolled her eyes. "It barely shows anything! Look, there are straps that cover up most of it anyway." She put her hand in the dress to show what I didn't notice before, several spaghetti straps that crisscrossed over each other all the way down the back. "Look, you can wear your jacket over it. Deal?"

I thought about it, about how it damaged my way of thinking. About how I never wore anything like it before and about how uncomfortable it will probably feel.

_Oh, just try it on, Miss Pessimism! _Knowledge encouraged. _Wear it once and who knows? You might even like it. Besides, you're finally getting on Jory's good side. Don't ruin that chance._

I sighed in admission. Knowledge was right. I didn't want to go back to before. Maybe having a friend that's a girl will be good for me? It'll be better than having an enemy, that's for sure.

Without saying a word, I walked up and took the dress from Jory. She beamed in delight, either at making me submit or at finding something that I would actually agree to wear, I don't know. "Put it on quickly," she ordered, backing out of the closet so I could have some privacy. "We don't have much time left, and we still need to do your make-up."

I froze. Make-up? Now I'm agreeing to wear make-up? What was the world coming to? _Just go with it,_ Knowledge said again._ Why can't you just go with the flow for once?_

_Because I'm becoming someone I'm not! _I argued as I slipped off my clothes and stepped awkwardly into the dress.

_If you are, then it's only for one night. But did you ever consider the possibility that Jory's helping you become the person that you_ _could_ _be? The person that you _should_ be?_

"No, I didn't," I whispered, talking out loud by mistake again.

"What's that?" Jory called from the other room. I don't know how she could have possibly heard me from that far away.

I slid on the straps of the dress and called back to her, telling her it was okay to come in again. She did, and her face lightened up so much I thought she might faint. "You look so _amazing,_ Remi! I was so right in picking that dress." She smiled, and then raised her eyebrows expectantly when I didn't say anything. "Well? Do you like it?"

Before I answered, I turned around and caught my reflection in the heart-shaped mirror. It was a reflection I didn't recognize. The dress fit snugly around my figure, accentuating curves that were never there before. It came down to the middle of my thighs, shorter than I thought it would be. The material was soft but strong, and I felt … well, not uncomfortable, but not like it was the greatest thing I ever wore. I turned around and looked over my shoulder to view the back, the part that I was most nervous about. The black straps stood out vividly against my pallid skin, resembling the laces intertwined in a shoe. The cut ended just above the curve of my back.

I liked it. I really did. Sure it made me look like a completely different person, but I didn't mind. I never thought I could look like this.

_Because I never tried._

"Well?" Jory repeated after a few moments. "You like it, right? I don't have to go digging for something else, right?"

I stared into the blue-violet eyes of the strange, unknown person reflecting back at me. "It'll do," I said quietly. My voice sounded a bit strangled, so I silently cleared my throat and looked away, back at Jory.

She shrugged like she suddenly didn't give a damn. "Whatever," she said indifferently. Sometimes, I think Jory has a bipolar condition; her attitude changes so fast I don't even see a transition.

"Come on," she said, pushing me towards the dresser and plopping me down on the chair. I glanced at the clock next to the mirror. We had eight minutes left.

"It's gonna take a miracle to do my make-up in time," I muttered.

"Then it's a good thing I'm a miracle worker," Jory said, laughing a little. She looked me over with her gaze, her blue eyes steady and determined. Wordlessly, she pulled out the top drawer on the right side of the dresser and placed it on the dresser top. It landed with a _thud, _and for good reason; the thing was filled to the rim with different types of make-up. Glosses, shadows, liners … it was all there. She grabbed a stick of eyeliner and set to work.

Inwardly, I was screaming. I kept telling myself that this was a good thing, that Jory was being nice by doing this and that I shouldn't fight it so much. But I still felt like I was being tortured, my hands squeezing the life out of the bottom of the chair in an attempt to exert my inner turmoil and to refrain from smacking Jory's hands away. So instead, I started reassuring myself that it was almost over, and if I just endured it, then I would never have to do it again. That seemed to help like a hungry lion would help a fat mouse.

Outwardly, however, Jory was having a one-sided conversation as she worked. She kept saying stuff about Syrus, about how she thinks she can get him to dance with her tonight. She confessed she's had a crush on him since the first time she saw him – when she was four years old, and he was seven. She laughed as she told me she wrote him a love letter once, and he gave her a yucky-face because he was only nine at the time and wasn't interested in girls. The humor of it seemed to lighten the tension in my mind, though as we got further and further into the process of prettifying my face I grew more anxious than ever in what the finished product will look like. I was forcing myself to keep my eyes closed the entire time, so I wouldn't chicken out in the middle of it.

I didn't want to be the one to tell Jory that Syrus didn't like her. I didn't want to have to ruin that for her, not on a night when we were finally on friendly terms. I think some part of her knows that he isn't attracted to her, that he thinks she's just the annoying little sister of his best friend. But that's probably what drives her to prove herself to him, to try harder to get his attention no matter how hopeless it seems.

Maybe one day she'll realize it's a waste of time and move on. Maybe someone will help her through that painful course of action. Maybe that someone will be me, because by then we'd be close friends.

Maybe I'm becoming delusional.

Maybe … _maybe_…

"Done," Jory said, and the single word breaking the silence of thought made me jump a little. Hesitantly, I peeked my eyes open and looked into the mirror, preparing to wipe my hands over everything Jory had just done.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't even bring myself to blink.

"You love it, don't you?" Jory assumed, grinning at my expression of awe that I could not erase from my face. "I figured that since you always act so miserable, you might as well look the part."

My eyes were outlined thickly with rich black eyeliner, helping them seem bigger and wider than they actually were. Various shades of blue and gray dusted over my eyelids, getting darker in tone nearest the bridge of my nose; they made the violet in my irises leap out from the rest of my visage, more than they did naturally. My lashes were long and sharp, but thick and plush at the same time. And my skin … it was glowing, it was so pale. I brushed the tips of my fingers against my right cheek and pulled them back. A very light layer of white powder clung to them, and I rubbed the residue into my palm so it wouldn't accidentally smear on the black dress.

If my hair were an inch shorter, I would look exactly like my mom from the photograph. And I mean _exactly_. How many people can say that?

"It's…" I started, my voice barely above a whisper, "It's…"

"Awesome, I know!" Jory exclaimed, laughing. "Greg's eyes are gonna pop!"

That caught my attention. "What?" I asked, snapping my suddenly fierce gaze on her.

She snorted in laughter, leaving my side to sort through her vast selection of shoes. It was seriously like a whole department store in here. "You're kidding, right? You think I haven't noticed how you guys look at each other? I'm not an idiot."

_What _is _it with everybody thinking I like Greg, huh? _I snarled inwardly, watching Jory with a deadpan expression as she pulled out a shoebox that was long and narrow.

_It's not as inconspicuous as you think it is, _Knowledge replied, which was just a fancier way of repeating what Jory had just said.

_Oh shut up! _I barked, _It was a rhetorical question._

I don't like Greg. Not that way. I don't. Just because I can't breathe around him and my heart hurts whenever we get close and I think he's beautiful – holy crap, what am I saying? We're just friends. There's nothing there. I don't … we're not … he _definitely _doesn't…

_Who're you trying to convince? _I wasn't sure if that was my thought, or Knowledge.

"Put these on," Jory said, using her commanding voice for the umpteenth time tonight. She handed me a pair of shoes and I took them without thinking, still dazed about Greg. The next thing I knew, I was modeling in front of the mirror again wearing black leather boots that reached the bottom of my knees and made me feel an inch taller. Before I could comment, Jory glanced at the clock on the dresser and gasped.

"We did it!" she shouted, grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards the closet entrance.

"Did what?" I asked, snatching my leather jacket off the ground as I passed by.

"Beat the clock," she replied, "but we still have to hurry. We got, like, a minute to get downstairs." She picked up the remote and stamped her thumb into the bottom button as soon as we were clear of the closet. The wall of mirrors started to fold shut, but Jory was still dragging me to the door, then through the hall, then down the stairwell.

We made it to the bottom floor a minute later, and Jory burst through the door with me right behind her. Across the room, mingling around the elevator, were the boys. Darien was the first one I noticed because of his bright red shirt. Then Syrus, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as usual, was clad in a brown jacket and dark jeans, a pair of dark sunglasses atop his head. And finally Greg, a black and blue vertically-striped collared shirt that fit him _nicely_. I tried to tell myself not to notice his biceps, but I couldn't help it. They were there, large and strong and dangerous – but safe, too.

Syrus saw us first because he was the only one facing our direction. "Finally," he sighed intolerantly, gesturing at us with his chin. Dare and Greg turned around just as we walked up to join them.

"We were just thinking about leaving without you," Darien informed, and then he saw me. His face cracked into a broad smile as he took in my entire transformation. "But I'm glad we didn't! Remi, you look incredible!"

I looked down, afraid I might blush.

"I told you so!" Jory boasted, punching Darien in the side and making him flinch. She beamed and held her chin up high with pride, letting us all bask in her glow. "I said you wouldn't be sorry, and of course I was right. I am a _genius_."

"Yeah, a stuck-up genius," Dare muttered, rolling his eyes.

I held back a grin and subconsciously looked at Greg. He was staring at me, his mouth open in a goofy, awestruck smirk. "Remi, you look … remarkable," he said almost breathlessly, like someone had just knocked the air right out of his lungs. And as I looked back at him, my heart pounding inside my chest like I just ran a marathon, my eyes boring deep into the ruby depths of his, I was hit with that same wave of emotion as two weeks ago. It was affection. It was care.

But most of all, it was lust, longing, desire - whatever other name you might have for it. And that one was something way out of my league. I almost staggered with the force of it. Thing is, I managed to develop another power during my meditation sessions; I was harnessing my abilities as an empath, and soon realized that I was able to pick up on the emotions of others, like my mother could. But I was still in the beginning stages, so whether or not these feelings were mine or Greg's, I couldn't tell. Everything was all jumbled together, like tossed salad.

"Thanks," I replied, but I had lost my voice. I mouthed the word instead.

"Well, let's get this show on the road," Syrus said, pressing the elevator button for down so we could get to the garage beneath the Tower. I pried my gaze away from Greg and stepped in after Syrus and the others, confused and wondering what the hell was happening to me and why.

* * *

**A/N – I would like to thank everyone for putting up with my laziness in updating. Gracias. Merci beaucoup. And thank you in every other language of the world. And I would like to point out – in response to all the personal messages and reviews I've received saying, "Where's Maximum Ride?" – that characters from the series will be appearing _very _soon. I got it _all _planned out. Yeah.**

**Keep reviewing! :)**

**- random -**

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	17. Shampoo

My Life

Chapter Seventeen:_ Shampoo_

Starfire and her husband had taken the motorcycle to the restaurant, and Cyborg was out driving the T-car while on patrol. So, we decided to take the only other vehicle available – Nightwing's car, a black and blue Chevy Camero with a surface so shiny it reflected everything around it, like a dark mirror. I fell in love with it instantly.

"Is it like the T-car?" I asked Greg as he walked up beside me. The others crowded around and passed us by, ignoring us as if we were a hologram or invisible. Syrus and Darien started up with each other immediately, and their disquieted argument over who was going to drive soon developed into a heated debate over which was the best driver out of the two of them. I spotted Jory sneaking shotgun while they were busy biting each other's heads off.

"If you mean the hover system, than yeah," he replied casually, "Cyborg collaborated it so it's almost an exact copy of the T-car – mechanically, anyway. But my dad added his own … personal touch." He chuckled under his breath, the sound of a light breeze in the midst of the still garage air. "Obviously." Greg looked down at me and grinned, his mouth parting in the crooked smile that made me want to die happy. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch impulsively as my breath caught in my throat, my heart pumping at least three beats faster. As usual, it was hard to look away from the natural beauty that was his face. Was it me? Or did the room suddenly warm up a few degrees?

"…you can't drive to save your life!" Darien was saying as my mind tuned back in to the radio station that is the rest of the world.

"I could drive circles around you, blindfolded! You wouldn't stand a chance in a race against me!" Syrus growled, smirking with pure mirth as he managed to swipe the keys from Darien's grasp and dangle them in front of his face. His eyebrows rose tauntingly. Dare, an irritated stare upon his face, made a swipe at them as quick as a cat. But Syrus, expecting it, was barely quicker, holding them out of reach to the right.

Greg sighed heavily with impatience; he stepped forward and snatched the car keys up with a little jingle, looping the key ring around his finger and twirling it about with the confidence that it wouldn't slip. The two bozos glanced over with stupid but simultaneous surprise.

"I'm driving," he said. His right eyebrow cocked cynically as they stared, and then he gestured with his chin for them to get in the car.

Everyone shuffled to grab a seat while Greg slid into the driver's spot smoothly, finesse in his nature. Jory got kicked out of shotgun by Darien and grudgingly moved to the seat behind him. I went for the back of the back, but ended up between Jory and Syrus because there was no back of the back – unless you count the trunk. Everyone buckled up, the doors locked, and then Greg turned the key in the ignition. The Camero growled to life for a moment, then relaxed into a comforting purr.

"Let's hit it!" Dare howled, and Greg pressed forward through the automatic garage doors and into the night.

* * *

Shampoo is located in the liveliest part of Jump City, southeast of the Tower on the corner of Victor Road and First Street. Both streets seemed vibrant and energetic, the townhouse buildings festooned with lights that flashed in every color imaginable. Everything was so brightly lit that I saw a negative image of the world on the inside of my eyelids whenever I blinked.

We parked directly across the street from the club, and everyone poured out at once, as if on cue. Feeling a chill as the cool night air brushed against my bare skin, I slid on my leather jacket and fixed the collar absently. My impenetrable gaze was set on the people waiting in line across the street, observing them laugh and dance to the muffled music emanating from within the building. A heavy weight fell upon my shoulders. Would my friends expect me to act like these people? Were they assuming that I could easily laugh and dance and have fun like a normal teenager? I hated the pressure I was feeling, because it might not even exist. It might all be in my head, in my imagination.

Or it might all be true.

_Relax and have a good time, Remi,_ said Knowledge, sensing my angst.

_I'm not sure I know _how _to have a good time, _I retorted.

_This shouldn't be a night of worry. You're with friends. What could go wrong?_

I considered it, not forgetting the fact that it was my first outing with actual friends. _A lot of things, _I stated emptily. A swelling lump of dread was beginning to form in the pit of my gut, giving me a stomachache.

"Remi," I heard someone call, and I looked ahead to see Greg waiting for me. I was still standing by the car; the others were talking to the bouncer, a big dark guy wearing a black shirt with the word '_Shampoo_' written in glow-in-the-dark bubble writing across the sweeping chest. They looked over at us, and Syrus waved impatiently. I hurried as fast as Jory's shoes would allow and caught up with Greg, feeling utterly ridiculous again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, picking up on my tension. I nodded curtly without looking at him, my eyes focused on the lime green neon sign above the bouncer's head.

"Hey, Rocky," Greg greeted as we approached. "You know the deal."

The bouncer – _Rocky_ – gave a sigh and shook his head. He glanced at the people in line, who were watching with curious keenness. "Remind me why I risk my job for just a couple of bucks?" he said. His voice was unexpectedly high and squeaky, like a really big mouse.

"Maybe because you know a couple of bucks with me means food and rent for a month in that big apartment of yours." Greg reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a generous wad of cash. Rocky took it quickly and sneakily, in a rather James Bond manner. Secret agent. Nobody in line noticed, not that I could tell; but when the bouncer unhooked the velvet rope to let us in, I could hear their murmurs of suspicion, which quickly increased to shouts.

"Hey, no fair…"

"We were here first!"

"I've been waiting, like, forever!"

Jory went in first, followed by Darien. As Syrus went in after them, his shades flipped down over his eyes in a possible attempt to hide his identity from the crowd, some guy in line dog whistled and shouted, "Hey, baby! Dig the dress. Can you get me cuts, too? I'll make it worth your while."

At first I thought nothing of it. But then I realized he was talking to me, _me, _and I was so startled I froze. I never got the whistle before. _Ever_. Or shouted obscenities that related to a sexual purpose. It had to be the dress; why else would he mention it specifically? The make-up, too, and these stupid heels. All of it is Jory's doing; she transformed me into someone I'm not. If I were dressed as my usual self, this wouldn't be happening. But still … I was both taken aback and embarrassed, but most of all I was irritated. I jumped a little when I felt Greg's hand on the small of my back, gently leading me inside and starting down a narrow hallway. I glanced at his expression, noticing how his lips were pressed together and his red eyes were glowing just a little too brightly in the growing darkness of the hall. I could feel the blood rising in my cheeks as the mortification intensified.

In a nearly breathless voice, I asked, "So … what did you mean?"

"Huh?"

"'You know the deal,'" I quoted, "What deal did you make that got us in before everyone else out there?"

Even though it was too dark to see anything but his alien eyes, I could still hear the chagrin in Greg's musical voice as he answered: "Rocky has this thing about bribes. He won't take them after quarter to seven for some reason. Won't say why. He's a weird dude."

"So that's why we had a time limit back at the Tower. If we were late, we would've had to wait in line like all those other people." Including the whistler. "But, if we were on time, why didn't any of those other people bribe him, too?"

Greg laughed quietly. "Because only he and I share the deal. Everyone else that tries to bribe him isn't as successful."

"What makes you so special?" I asked, almost teasing him.

"Maybe he suspects who my dad is," Greg hinted, "But he isn't sure, so he still demands some dough. Like I said, he's a difficult book to read."

"I didn't take you as the type to bribe, Gregory," I said.

"And I didn't think you'd ever wear a dress in public, Remi," he countered.

"Do I detect a hint of defiance?"

"You tell me. You're the empath's daughter."

_Touché. _

As we rounded the first corner of the hall entrance, we saw the rest of the gang waiting for us beneath a lamp dangling from the ceiling, swinging back and forth shakily and with too much momentum to be natural. I suspect one of the boys smacked it while they were waiting for Greg and me. The music was getting louder with every step.

"You two are slower than a couple of turtles with half the brain of a snail," Syrus barked, walking through the door that allegedly led to the inside of the club before we could reach him. Darien followed, cackling.

"Look who's talking? Am I wrong, or don't you always get last place in Speed IV?" he said, referring to the car race game the three of them were playing on the day we met. They were out of earshot, drowning in the ocean of chatter and music, before I could catch Syrus's reply.

Jory came up to me, grinning and bouncing with excitement. It could have been the poor lighting, or perhaps my imagination at work again, but her smile seemed strained somehow. Actually, she looked a little ill, like something was paining her and she was afraid to admit it – or strongly convincing herself not to. I couldn't help but wonder if she was putting on a show as she hooked her arm under mine and said, "Come on, Remi!" in an innocently eager voice.

_Why the sudden change of heart? _I thought to myself. _First the makeover and now this; I'm starting to think the real Jory was abducted and a robotic clone took her place._

I eyed Jory suspiciously as she guided me through the door and into the club. Greg trailed us.

_I think she's just sick of being the only girl in the house, _Knowledge answered. _She wants someone to hang out with other than her brother and _his_ friends. _

_You think?_

There was an incredible diversity in movement on the two halves of the club. To my left was a crowded dance floor, young adults of all different ages bouncing, swaying, and twitching to a live performance of some techno band with a name I didn't recognize. Red and blue lights flashed off of the edge of the stage and colored-coded the crowd, reminding me of the siren on the roof of a police car.

Knowledge said, _Imagine yourself in her position: You've grown up homeschooled, surrounded by boys, none of which are your age or take much interest in you, and after a while you feel like they're getting all the attention just because they're older, and people are forgetting you. And then, after fourteen years, someone new arrives – a girl, not that much older than you, who might make a good candidate as a friend. _

I glanced to my right and noticed a significant difference of setting. A counter with a bar behind it stretched along the far wall and huddled to a stop in the corner. Thousands of drink options – more than half of which would be illegal if I had a mere sip – sat upon the shelves behind the one working bartender.

_But, _Knowledge continued,_ after such an extensive time of acting tough around the boys, you unintentionally adopted an uppity, snooty-pooty attitude as a coping method, and you push the potential friend away into the hands of – gasp! – your brother and his bonehead buddies. Leaving you alone in the dark again._

_What are you saying? _I asked slowly, my brain focusing on too many things at once.

_I'm saying that maybe Jory finally realized that she's been pushing you away when, with just a few kind words and actions, you two could've been tight friends weeks ago. _Knowledge sighed. _Just give her another chance, Remi. I think she's willing to take it now. _

Jory dragged me over to a table that Dare and Syrus had saved for us. There weren't enough chairs for everyone; Greg had to carry two over from the empty table next to us so he and I could have something to sit on. It was no trouble, not with his super strength.

I watched Jory with more of a sympathetic mind, figuring the logic of what Knowledge had just told me. If this were true, than Jory and I are more alike than I ever thought possible. Both of us living for so long without true friends, left in the dark. I know how tough it is. We just … chose different paths in dealing with it. She sought attention; I sought invisibility. With this coming realization, I sighed inwardly with surrender. _Fine. Have it your way, _I said, and then added: _But she better not screw it up!_

_You try not to either, Remi. The chain swings both ways, you know. _

I started to get settled in better, pushing this new knowledge into the back of my mind for now. It was time to focus on other things, like tonight's events. I had no idea what was going to unfold, didn't really know what I was supposed to do, and to top it off, I suddenly felt extremely insecure in this dress. My head pounded with the confusion, but I was used to headaches by this stage in my life. No big.

"I wanna dance," Jory announced, not surprising anyone.

After a few moments in which nothing happened, Darien said, "Well, do you need a push start? Go and dance then."

"I don't want to go alone! I don't know anyone here. How pathetic would it be for me to dance by myself?"

"No more than usual," Darien snickered under his breath. Jory wasted a scowl on him before turning to me.

"You'll dance with me, won't you, Remi?" she asked. I was startled into stutters.

"Um … I – I don't …"

"Come on, Remi!" Darien encouraged. "Give the tough act a break and loosen up a little."

_Tough act?_

Suddenly, I had what they call a 'light bulb moment'.

"Why don't you and Syrus dance together, huh?" I suggested. Jory's eyes immediately lit up, gleaming a luminescent blue. Syrus glanced up from staring at a group of girls sitting a couple tables down from us.

"What?"

"Come on, Sy! Let's dance!" Jory got to her feet and nearly glided over to his seat.

"Uh, no, really … I can't dance … two left feet and all …" But his yammering was the equivalent to shouting at a deaf person. Jory grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of his seat, dragging him over to the dancing wave of people. Syrus didn't really resist, but he didn't look too happy about it. Once he glanced over his shoulder to give me a death-insinuating glare. I cocked an eyebrow gloatingly.

"What d'you bet she's been waiting for someone to suggest that?" Greg asked, grinning.

"Yep," Darien added, sighing almost regrettably, "We'll never hear the end of this. But then again, neither will Sy." We watched as Syrus stood awkwardly on the packed outskirts of the crowd, looking around desperately for an escape route while Jory danced around him, lifting and swinging his arms in a vain effort to make him return the favor.

"It's a Kodak moment," I said. Darien and Greg laughed without even trying to hide it. Even through all the noise in the room, I could almost hear Syrus' eyes roll.

After a couple of minutes, my brain still pounding between my temples like the rhythmic beat of a drum, I tasted the top of my mouth and realized I was parched. Rummaging through the pockets of my leather jacket, my stomach squeezed with the realization that I left my money in the jeans I was wearing earlier. With a glance in the bar's direction, I asked Greg, "Can I borrow a couple of bucks?" I hate favors.

"Why? What's up?"

"I was just going to get a drink."

He scooted his chair out automatically. "I'll get it for you. What do you want? Soda? Water? Bloody Mary?"

"They make Bloody Marys here?"

"Sure. You want one?"

"I can get it myself," I stated, getting out of my seat.

"It's no problem."

"Greg, it's just a drink," I pointed out. Though flattered I was that he was so willing to serve me like my own personal waiter, he was starting to make a big deal out of it. _I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I just … need your money to do it._

It took a couple seconds of consideration before Greg pulled out a five-dollar bill and held it out to me. I took it from him, aware that our fingers brushed against each other, and even more aware that my skin was burning in the places he happened to touch.

"I'll pay you back tomorrow," I promised.

"No need," he said, smiling his crooked grin.

I stood there for one moment longer, flustered, my heart fluttering with the usual crazed confusion, and then made way for the bar. Standing upright seemed to intensify the thrumming pain in my head, like someone was playing wall ball with a fifty-pound rock on the inside of my skull. Ignoring it the best I could, I leaned my elbows on the counter as I waited for the bartender. Business was rather active at the moment – nearly every stool was occupied – so it might be a while before I'm even noticed. I sighed and leaned my head into my right hand, foot tapping out of habit of both impatience and boredom.

"You don't look too happy to be here."

I turned at the voice, instinctively knowing that whoever had talked had been talking to me. Behind me, sitting one stool away, was an unusual character. It was a guy, his hair a stark black except for the long bangs that hung over his left eye, which were streaked in electric blue. He was pale, the skin in his face lacking color. Everything he had on was black with the exception of red-striped fingerless gloves he wore on both hands. They reminded me of Dr. Seuss. He looked to be around twenty-one, but my guess was that he was younger than he appeared to be – he was drinking a Dr. Pepper, after all.

"And how would you know if I was happy or not?" I replied. This guy … he had a strange presence about him. Something about him made me feel apprehensive, something that was off.

"I'm kind of an expert on it, actually," he replied, and when he spoke I realized his lip was pierced. The skull-shaped stud was the universal sign of outcast. "Unhappiness … I can always tell if someone's melancholy. It's a conundrum."

I scoffed inwardly. Who does this guy think he is? A psychic with good vocabulary? Despite the faint conceitedness in his voice, I had a cross reaction between fascination and dread.

"What'll it be, darlin'?" the bartender suddenly said, stealing my attention.

"Bloody Mary," I ordered in direct monotone. "Small. Lots of ice."

"You got it." He walked off, and when I turned back I noticed the stranger had moved to the barstool next to me.

"'Lots of ice'?" he repeated. I was unnerved at how he eavesdropped on my order.

"I like my drinks cold."

"Do you, now?" He grinned, and then held out his right hand. "My name's Spike, pretty girl," he said.

"Spike? No surname?"

"Don't need one." He waited, his hand still extended, waiting for mine. I shook it quickly to be polite. His fingers were bone cold.

"You got a name, or should I keep calling you pretty girl?" He seemed to have gained even more confidence with the handshake, making me regret it.

I scowled, twisting inwardly with discomfort. "I don't give out my name to people I don't know," I said stiffly. His green eyes opened wide, flaring with interest. The ache in my head fiercely increased, and I struggled to remain oblivious to it.

_Where's my damn drink? _I thought sourly, getting sick of this nonsensical talk.

"But we just met! It's only right for the introductions to go both ways." He shifted closer to me, moving with the slyness of a snake on a hunt. His hand came up and brushed against my arm; my skin exploded into goose bumps, but not the good kind. It was the creepy kind, the kind you get watching a horror movie – or, in my case, a romantic comedy.

I jerked my arm away, my scowl turning into a glare. Spike laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood and cover up his mistake. What mistake, you may ask?

He touched me, that's what.

"Come on, just your name…"

"Can't you take a hint?" I snapped. His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Whatever this is, I'm not interested. So back off."

"Geez, take it easy. I just … wanna get to know you."

He started moving closer again, only this time with more aggression. My head burst in a new wave of pain, accompanied with a sensation of Spike's emotions. There was a fire burning inside of him, passion mixed with anger. And, of course, lust. The dangerous kind, the kind you want to stay away from. It was as if my new empath powers were sending me a message.

A drink appeared out of nowhere, smacking onto the counter next to me. "Three ninety-nine," interrupted the bartender, oblivious to the transaction going on. I slid him the five-dollar bill Greg gave me and mumbled for him to keep the change. He obliged gratefully.

Drink in hand, I turned to leave when Spike suddenly grabbed my arm, his grip tight and cold and fierce. "Don't walk away from me," he growled angrily into my ear. I was too furious about his assault to be startled by the tactics switch.

Slowly I looked back at him, and he must have seen the seriously murderous glare on my face, because he suddenly looked sick. "Unless you want to lose your hand, I suggest you let me go," I said quietly.

After a moment of hesitation, he released my arm and I was off, not even glancing back. I heard a few swear words leave his mouth, though, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted the door slam. Maybe he left. I don't really care.

The guy was a total pervert.

The crowd between the bar and our table had thickened incredibly between when I left and now. I had to squeeze around people and duck under things, constantly checking to see if my drink spilled. It was chaotic. I happened to spot Darien a couple of yards away, chatting animatedly with a tall dark girl. She was laughing, either thinking he was funny or funny looking. I snickered inwardly when I saw her hand touch his arm, then jerk back convulsively, a shocked expression on her face. Dare's grin faltered.

Ah, the downside of having superpowers:

Hiding them.

Finally I reached the table, where Greg was sitting alone. "Hey," he said as I sat down next to him. "Did you get lost in China or something?"

"Sorry," I said. "The bartender was really slow." I didn't think it was that important to tell him about Spike. It was a one-time encounter, after all. I'll never see him again.

I took a sip of my drink, liked it, and drank a couple more gulps. "Are Syrus and Jory still 'dancing'?"

"I think so. They vanished into the crowd, so I can't see them anymore." Greg laughed, and the sound was more like music to me than the crap this juvenile band played. Like my facial muscles suddenly had a mind of its own, my cheeks rose with a smile – a genuine one, not the fakes I normally pull. Greg watched with bemused wonder, his eyes magnificently aglow with pleasure.

"You're not gonna burn my face off, are you?" I asked.

"What?" he said, startled.

"Your eyes are red. _Really _red. It's like they are when you use your starvision."

"Oh." He looked down, shyly self-conscious about what I said. "I didn't know."

I went silent, staring at him. How could someone who saves people and fights bad guys be so … bashful? What else could I say to him?

It was getting really warm in here. Jory was right; I would have died from heat stroke if I wore those jeans tonight. Almost with frustration, I pulled my leather jacket off, revealing the ashen skin of my bare arms and shoulders. The relief of cooler, fresher air chilling my skin pores was distracting.

The band's last song ended – finally – and the DJ's voice sounded in the microphone. "Yo, let's give it up for the Android Restoration Project!" A cheer erupted from the crowd, loud enough to make me go deaf. I didn't join; I was too busy wondering if the band members were high when they named themselves. "Alright, alright," the DJ said when everyone calmed down, "It's time to slow it down a bit. You all know what I mean. Check this." And over the speakers a slower, quieter song began to play. It was much better sound quality, better than the blaring, broken foghorn noise that was the ARP's "music". The song itself was beautiful – gentle piano, soft acoustic guitar, the female singer's voice falling over the crowd in a hush. The atmosphere changed immediately, like somebody flicked a switch. Fast paced dancing of groups broke off into smooth sways of couples, boy and girl.

It was a slow dance.

_Hey, I recognize this song, _I said, trying to remember the title.

_It's My Immortal, from the band Evanescence. You listened to it all the time when you were twelve. _

_So now you know all the songs I've ever heard and when I heard them? _I asked. _Could you play them in my head, too? Like a built-in I-pod or something?_

_Unless you want to hear me sing to a musicless orchestra, than no, I can't._

_Bummer. _

I blinked my eyes open again, not realizing they had closed. I remembered now. I was obsessed with Evanescence when I was younger. I fell asleep to this song almost every night, so that must be why I was suddenly tired.

"Would you like to dance?"

I looked at Greg, uncomprehending.

"Dance?" I repeated, saying the word as if it were the apocalypse.

"Yeah, dance. It's that thing two people do together when a song is playing. I hear it's very popular." He grinned a little with the sarcasm, but I could sense the anxiety he felt in asking me this. He was also afraid, and that made me a little confused. What was he afraid of?

_Rejection, _Knowledge threw in. It didn't seem possible, just like him being shy didn't seem rational.

What should I do?

"Come on," he encouraged, the tint of desperation in his voice, "Just for one song."

"I can't," I said, nearly cutting him off. I sensed his disappointment, so I added, "It isn't that I wouldn't want to, it's that I literally _can't. _I've … never danced before."

"Then tonight will be your first," he exclaimed. Why did he always have to be so optimistic? "I promise it'll be a night to remember." I glanced at him skeptically, ready to regrettably shoot him down with finality. But I could see how much he wanted this, how much he meant what he was saying. And I could feel it.

A breath of hesitation, and then I sighed in defeat. "One song," I submitted. He stood up immediately, a bit hyper, and held out his hand like a gentleman. I placed my palm into his, and he gracefully helped me to a stand and led me towards the dance floor. The crowd wasn't as condense as it was when the sucky techno music was playing, so Greg easily slid around people, gently tugging me along for the ride. A light sweat had already broken out on the back of my neck.

Greg turned to face me, and just like that we were within inches of each other. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed up at him, marveled by the smoothness in his face, the perfectly sculpted shape of his radiant eyes, his smirking lips...

"You weren't kidding," he said softly after we stood there, motionless, for almost a full minute. "You've really never danced before?"

I shook my head.

Greg laughed softly, but a line had formed between his eyebrows, a crease of concern. Or perhaps wonder. "Let's see, then," he whispered, talking to himself as much as he was to me. "You put your hands here…" Taking my hands in his, Greg carefully draped my arms up and over his shoulders. I was so short that my fingers barely interlocked on the back of his neck, mingling in his ebony hair. My emotions were on the fritz and so were his, and when his hands trailed down my arms, his fingertips brushing along my pale flesh with the softness of a feather, sending electricity through every nerve in my body and making me shiver despite the heat, I couldn't tell if it was on purpose or not. I didn't really care. I was going nuts.

God, I'm such a sucker.

"I put mine here," he said, and cautiously he set his hands on the side of my waist, just above my hips. He grinned nervously, and I'm not sure if I did the same or not. I felt like stone.

And then we moved. Swayed, really, from side to side. Our feet shuffled around each other, not quite in perfect unison but I'd say pretty well. We were dancing. _I_ was dancing. I couldn't possibly tell you how inhumanly fast my heart was beating.

"See?" said Greg, "This isn't so bad, is it?"

I gulped, but my throat was bone dry. "It's certainly no waltz," I managed to croak, hoping he didn't notice.

"Is that your way of saying I'm a bad dancer?"

"No. I just… never mind." I tried to brush it off casually. We all know how bad I am at that, especially under unknown pressure such as this. "This is nice, Greg." And before I could choke on humiliation, I turned my head away from his gaze, my eyes wide in exasperation.

This was even harder than I thought it would be.

The song went on flawlessly, really setting a solemn mood. The police lights were replaced with a slow-pulsing dark violet light. The crowd seemed to be moving in a wave, everybody turning at once, stepping in rhythm. I rested my head on Greg's shoulder and tried to relax, but it was impossible. My nerves were shot, my head still pounded, and these shoes were starting to hurt my feet.

Yet I was feeling … kind of happy. It was weird.

Just then I felt Greg's shoulders shaking, and I lifted my head to see what he was doing. But he was laughing, and his eyes were staring out at something behind me. "Look at that," he said, gesturing with a nod of the head. I discreetly turned my head around and saw Jory and Syrus dancing a little ways off. I couldn't help but smirk when I saw their faces, Jory's alight with pleasure as her face snuggled up against Sy's chest, while Syrus looked like he was suffering a severe injury. I snickered silently and turned back to Greg. He smiled down at me, I smiled up at him. My arms trailed down to rest against the sides of his shoulders, where I could feel the muscles of his super-strong arms through his thin shirt, and I think he pulled me closer to him.

He reached up for a moment and brushed a strand of violet-black hair out of my eyes, his fingertips softly tracing along my forehead and down my cheek, where he gently tucked the strand behind my ear. I didn't even flinch.

For the first time all night, I started to enjoy myself. Nothing else mattered, not the fact that I was in a ridiculous dress, or that strangers surrounded us, or that our friends could be watching us right this moment. I suddenly had the impulse to do something reckless and irresponsible and completely unlike me. I felt possessed into doing it right this second.

And Greg was thinking the exact same thing.

He curled his hand under my chin and tilted my face up, and I could see him lean forward just before my eyes drifted closed, and –

"Oh. My. God."

I stiffened at the voice, my eyes startled and wide. _No, _I thought, _Not now! Not when my life just started to feel normal!_ I pulled away from Greg and turned around to face the one person I thought I would never see ever again.

Lexis.

* * *

**A/N: I got the name Shampoo from the real all-ages club near where I live. But I've never been there, so the descriptions I lay out are all original. Just thought you viewers should know. Oh, and I'm sorry the update is so much later than usual. Aliens abducted me and they made me disco dance all these months. But I'm BACK now! So throw a party for me.**

**And I hope the chapter lived up to all the hype. Oh, and don't worry. Maximum Ride characters will be popping up **_**very **_**soon.**

**- random**


	18. The Truth

My Life

Chapter 18:_ The Truth_

"Well, well ... what a surprise. This is the last place I ever thought you'd be, Roth." Her eyes glinted in the violet lights, flashing a demonic white. The same smug grin I've learned to hate spread across her face, almost curling at the edges like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas.

She's the Bitch Who Almost Killed Me, and she's back for even more.

"What are you doing here, Lexis?" I asked stiffly. I hadn't had a reason to put up my guard in a while, but my expression went blank and my voice emotionless like it was just yesterday we were battling on the bus.

"What do you think? Partying, of course!" She laughed, the same cruel, gaunting snickers as ever before. "My question to _you _is, what the hell are _you _doing here?"

"Remi?"

I nearly jumped, I was so on edge. I'd forgotten all about Greg. I'd forgotten about everything.

"Is she one of your friends from school?" he asked, completely ignorant of my tension. And what I always knew, but never acknowledged directly, now became clear in my head. _He thinks I had friends before, _I thought, wide-eyed. _They all think that, I bet. And Lexis ... she'll ruin everything with them! _

_How so? _Knowledge piped.

_You idiot! _I shouted inwardly. _Lexis lies. Lexis ALWAYS lies! She'll convince Greg and Dare and the others to hate me, like everyone else does. So much for friendship. So much for... _I fumbled off in anger, unable to finish the sentence even in thought,

_I thought you patched things up with her? _And just when Knowledge said that, the memory came back to me. Lexis, me, talking at the construction site. She made it seem like things were finally okay between us, like the accident was a wake-up call to her. Was it true, or was I misled?

"Gimme a minute," I mumbled to Greg, then turned back to Lexis. She didn't look at me at first, but behind me at Greg, eyeing him with curiosity and ... ugh ... _lust_. I could sense it on her, smell it like a rotten egg perfume. It made my brain want to explode and me want to puke.

I started. "Lexis, I don't..."

"Who is _that?_" she interrupted, still staring at Greg. I watched in disgust as her eyes scanned him up and down, and my fists clenched. "What a hottie. He's not someone I expected to see hanging out with a freak like you."

_So much for patching things up, _I thought, my last hope draining like water down an open pipe.

"Look," I snapped, grabbing her attention finally. "I don't want to start anything new, not after the ... I mean, not after what happened that day." I hated to bring this up, but I had to remind her.

Her stare became a scowl, and I was instantly on the defense. "You can cut the shit, Goth Roth. I know what really happened that day. That little stunt in the bathroom? That was just the grand finale to your scheme, wasn't it? You see, I figured it all out, how you survived that spike."

My breath caught in my throat as the full realization of the consequences that could become if Lexis knew I was part of the Teen Titans, if she knew I had powers, if she knew who my mother was, if she knew-

"You faked getting stabbed in the stomach, then got up and walked away only to scare the shit out of us the next day."

_Huh? _

"Huh?" I said aloud, unable to translate both my surprise and relief into words. She scoffed at me, raising her chin in superiority.

"You're sick little game is over, Goth Roth," Lexis snarled, and I saw her own fists clench - never a good sign. But I didn't know what to say. If I denied her reasoning, than she'd still be wondering how I survived. But if I let her think I did all of it on purpose, the torture won't stop 'til graduation day.

"I'm through with this, Lexis," I said, neither denying nor consenting. "I was through with it years ago. I just didn't say anything." I turned to walk away, and it felt like time had slowed itself down. I could feel my heartbeat pumping inside my chest, one beat per second. I didn't get very far before my arm was grabbed for the second time tonight.

"Where do you think you're going, bitch?" she growled, loud enough for others to hear. "I got you in my sights tonight. You think I'm going to let you go?" Her fingers tightened around my forearm in a vice grip; I could feel her nails dig under my skin. But I wasn't going to take it. Not anymore.

My arm came up and twisted out of her grasp, making her mouth drop in an _O_. "I said I was done, and I mean it. Back the hell off."

"What's going on over here?" Greg said, coming over to stand beside me. He looked at me, then Lexis, and back at me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered abruptly, still glaring at Lexis. But then she started to laugh again, not even trying to hide it.

"Who _is _this guy, your _bodyguard?_" she said in a shrilling pitch. Then, turning to Greg: "What is she, your whore or something?"

"Remi, I don't know who this is, but she's certainly not your friend," he said to me, moving to stand in front of me.

"Greg, I can handle this," I protested, but he had already gestured to someone in the crowd. The next instant, Jory, Syrus, and Darien were making a hole in the crowd to where we stood.

"We don't leave our friends to fight their own battles alone," he said.

"What's going on, Greg? Remi?" Darien asked, and Jory gave her brother a look that said, _Why the hell did you interrupt my dance with my one true love? _As for Syrus, well ... let's just say I've never seen a bigger look of relief.

"This girl is bothering us," Greg replied, staring at Lexis with a cold look in his face.

"She's bothering _me,_" I corrected quietly, but he turned his head slightly towards me and whispered, "Whoever bothers you, bothers me." I didn't quite understand why, but I figured it must be a team leader thing. Or a Greg thing. I haven't known him long enough to know.

"Who _are _you people?" Lexis burst out, and my attention reverted back to her. She looked just plain confused now, her gaze flickering from face to face, searching in vain for recognition. "I've never seen any of you before. You don't go to Sun Valley." What turned out to be a personal vendetta against me was slowly becoming a territorial issue as well. Lexis was the domain leader at school, and apparently at Shampoo as well - she had to have been coming here for a while now, knowing her. But these new folk, this guy with red eyes and a demanding appearance, protecting her prey from harm, is challenging her predatorial claim. It won't be long now before she strikes. Hard.

But how she will do it is the question.

"We're Remi's friends. Who the hell are you?" Darien said, looking at her sideways.

That's when she really burst into hysterics. "_Friends?_" she laughed, almost doubling over. "You ... Did you say you were Goth Roth's _friends?_"

"Goth Roth?" said Syrus, looking at me with an open smug grin and a cocked eyebrow, an expression screaming, _Damn! That's good. Why didn't I think of that? _

Who's side are you on, jackass?

Lexis barked out even more laughter, but it had transformed into her snobbish, controlling, state-the-obvious chuckle. "She doesn't _have _any friends."

I could feel my heart turn to stone. "Don't..." I breathed, but she pressed on.

"Remi Roth has never had a single friend in her entire life," Lexis shouted for all to hear. "Everybody hates her. She hides in the shadows at school like a creep, just staring at everybody. It's like she doesn't feel anything, and she's scary as shit. And everyone knows it. Everyone in the whole damn city knows that she's a _freak!_" She was laughing again, that same evil witch laughter, taunting me, stabbing at my soul.

"No..." I gasped, unable to believe that she'd said it out loud, screamed it to the world. I glanced at Darien, at Jory, at Syrus, and finally at Greg. They were all watching me, searching for a sign that she was lying, reading my expression that was supposed to be blank. But they saw. They saw from the fear and shock in my eyes that it was true.

And she just kept on laughing...

Without thinking, I reached out and punched her in the face, right across the left brow. Her head jerked right and she collapsed onto the linoleum floor. The music stopped. The dancing stopped. Time itself stopped. All I saw was Lexis lying there, silent, staring up at me with the craziest look of surprise in her cold grey eyes, a swelling red mark on the side of her face already beginning to bruise. I couldn't breathe for the longest time.

Then life restarted - it was just on _pause_, and somebody pushed the _play_ button.

"Remi?" I felt their eyes on me, felt Greg's shock pounding through my veins, felt everyone's emotional reactions - surprise, disapproval, fascination, excitement.

But all _I_ could really feel was humility. I pushed past everyone and ran off the dance floor, across the hall, and out the first door I saw, bursting into the outside world and breathing in the air so deeply I thought my lungs would burst. Warm, summer air breathed over me, which I was thankful for because I'd realized I forgot my jacket inside. But I couldn't go back in, not now. My head was spinning, my heart was pounding, and my knees were weaker than a baby's tricycle supporting a fat guy. Okay, that was mean, but at the moment I don't give a shit.

I had hoped it would never come to this. I was so _naive_, thinking I could keep something like this from them, start afresh, push the restart button. But somehow I knew ... I _knew _they would find out. Then the jig would be up, and I'd go back to my own life like none of it ever even happened. But tonight, nothing was as I predicted it to be. I expected to feel like nothing's changed, an evil sense of nostalgia just creeping into my cave of a mind and settling in for the next week or so, nawing on my thoughts and memories until I was numb. But instead ... I was pissed. _Really _pissed. Pissed at Lexis and at myself for letting it happen and for tricking myself into this dissappointment. I was also scared, but that fright was just a small mouse beside the lion of rage. At least, for now it was.

I saw a trash can a few feet away and intentionally plowed over in my high boots and kicked it with so much force that it tipped over and dumped its contents on the ground. Plastic bags and cans flew in every direction, sprawling across the gravel dirt, escaping the tin can prison that contained them and sentenced them to dumpster hell. If only I could escape, too.

_Littering won't solve any of this, _Knowledge reprimanded. I scowled and growled and kicked another can over in response.

_I don't care! I just … I feel like beating the crap out of something! Don't you feel like that?_

_I can't feel other feelings, Remi. I'm the rational part of your mind. Therefore, I will always remain rational._

_Oh, shut up. I can't talk to you when I'm like this._

I stomped over to the brick wall extending from the club's back door and leaned against it, taking in my surroundings for the first time. I was in a back alleyway, directly behind Shampoo. It was where employees went outside to take a smoking break, or dump the garbage in the dumpster. It was where stray animals went to the bathroom – I knew that because it smelled like stale cat pee.

It was also, apparently, the place where overly-emotional-yet-impassive girls escape their friends' prodding questions about past non-relationships.

For a moment, I tried to calm myself, to relax and not overreact. I leaned my head back against the wall, crossed my arms, closed my eyes, and thought about what Lexis had said. _"She doesn't have any friends."_ Her words rang in my ears, echoed in my head. I clenched my fists around my bare arms as I listened. _"Everybody hates her. She hides in the shadows at school like a creep, just staring at everybody..." _Of course I hid. I hid from everyone because of what they did to me, what they do to me, and what they will do to me next year. I was trying to be invisible. _"It's like she doesn't feel anything, and she's scary as shit.__ And everyone knows it. Everyone knows that she's a freak!"_

My eyes flew open. _What did she mean, I don't "feel anything"? I feel every single punch to the gut, unless... _I scrunched my brow in confusion. _Did she mean emotional feelings? _

_It makes sense._

I waited for more, but there was none. I grinded my teeth together in aggravation. _WHAT makes sense?_

_That Lexis meant you don't feel any emotion, _Knowledge explained. _Could it be that in all these years of hiding your feelings, your expression blank, your voice deadpan ... maybe you were passively intimidating the other kids at school?_

I gulped, the logic setting in and catching my thoughts on fire. _What are you suggesting? That I scared everyone into attacking me? That I provoked them by trying to stay away from them?_

_I'm suggesting, _it replied slowly, cautiously, _that maybe they felt you were different, and were curious enough to wonder why. But once you put up your defenses, you saw each person as someone who was out to get you, and eventually that's what they became. _

_So I'm paranoid? _

_No. You're just careful. And you learned from Raven how to hide your feelings, so it became an instinct for you. But to everyone else, just imagine what _they_ saw - a solitary girl who reacted to nothing on an emotional level and kept to herself all of the time, and occasionally glared at anyone who tried to make contact with her, as if contact would kill her. Odd, right? Out of place, almost inhuman._

I shook my head, my breaths coming in heavier and heavier. _That can't be why. I didn't do this to myself. Lexis even said so. She said everybody hates me. That's why they treat me like a freak - they hate me!_

_But you yourself have been wondering for years _why _they hate you. _

I slumped against the wall, not quite falling but slouching lower. I was losing my balance, growing dizzy. _So there's something wrong with me, _I admitted to myself, realizing it as I said it. A weak little snort came out of my mouth. _Lexis was actually telling the truth tonight, for the first time. _"Imagine that," I mumbled under my breath.

_I could be wrong, you know, _Knowledge said, switching sides to try to comfort me. _It's just my reasoning ... _your _reasoning, actually, since I'm part of you._

"I don't like my reasoning," I said aloud, "It sucks."

Just then, the back door opened next to me. I didn't have time to run or hide before Greg came out and spotted me. "Remi, there you are." I flinched away from him, from his overjoyed relief at seeing me. I didn't think I deserved it.

"Yeah. Here I am, in another shitload of trouble and drama that I didn't ask to be in," I snapped, not looking at him. I was afraid of what I might see - anger? dissappointment? fright? But more importantly, I was afraid of what _he _might see in me. Nevertheless, he walked over and stood beside me, his hands in his pockets. It was almost casually awkward.

"Trouble seems to follow you everywhere, doesn't it?" he said gently.

"I'm the frickin' trouble magnet," I answered passively, struggling to deadpan my face. But then I stopped trying. If I hid my emotions from him ... would he learn to hate me, too? I thought again about what Lexis said, what Knowledge had pointed out. I thought about how I had become more open with the Titans since I first joined them, and how much more friendlier they were to me. Even Jory managed to turn around, although the reasons are still unclear.

Maybe I _was _the problem. It was too much, too fast. I was on the verge of swaying, I was so overwhelmed. I began to slide away from Greg, still leaning against the wall as I did so. He followed me.

"Remi, that girl - what's her name?"

"Lexis," I muttered in disgust.

"She left," he said. "We told the bouncers what happened after you ran out and they made her leave out the front door. You can come back in now."

"I'm not going," I answered lowly, still turning away.

"Remi, we know she was lying. How could you not have had friends before us? It doesn't make sense. You have a great personality, and your own style of doing things, and-"

"It's not like that..." I started quietly, cutting him off. But I hesitated, holding back, fearing the answer.

"Not like what?" he said, and when I refused to answer: "Remi? What do you mean?"

I took a deep, shaky breath and glanced at him over the peak of my bony shoulder. "What if I said that it was true?" I said, a darkness creeping into my voice that I hadn't anticipated. Greg's brow furrowed in deeper confusion. "What if I told you ... that she wasn't lying? That for as long as I can remember, nobody my age has ever thought once about becoming my friend? No one has ever tried. And ever since my freshman year in high school I've been beaten, bruised, tortured, abused, and threatened by almost every person in my school's population. And I haven't had a damn clue as to why until tonight." I had been talking faster and faster as I went on, and now I was out of breath. I glanced at Greg's surprised face and looked away again.

He was silent for a long time. Up to the point where I regretted with all my being what I just told him.

"I have to get out of here," I whispered raspingly. My feet started to drag me further away from him, still leaning against the wall with my back. I didn't feel strong enough to walk without support.

"Remi, wait..." Greg started.

I ignored him, pushing myself off the wall and stumbling into the center of the alley.

"Remi, wait! Please!" Greg called in exasperation. I kept walking, almost tripping over the trashcan I had knocked down earlier. The more steps I took, the dizzier I felt. But I kept walking. "Can't we talk about this?" he persisted. "Remi, please, wait up… Hey! Ah!"

Suddenly I gasped, my breath cut short as I felt a fiery burning in the back of my mind, creeping in from the left side of my neck. My hand almost reached up past my collarbone before I realized the pain wasn't mine. I wasn't feeling it – _someone else was._ I turned around.

Greg was on his knees, his hand clutching the side of his neck and his face screwed up in pain. "Remi..." he mouthed; a moment later, his muscles relaxed completely. His eyes drifted shut as he fell to the ground, unconscious. Or worse. And standing behind him, a dripping syringe in hand, was Spike.

"Hello again, pretty girl," he said, a dark grin cracked across his ghostly face. "I thought you'd never come out to play."

"What are you doing?" I croaked.

"So, you're name is Remi," he replied, ignoring my question and stepping carelessly around Greg. I stood my ground, afraid to move. My head pounded even worse now that _he _was around. Spike looked me up and down, just like he did before, only this time with even more yearning. He shook his head in disapproval. "Such an odd name wasted on such a beautiful creature."

He kicked Greg's arm out of his way as he came nearer. I watched Greg's motionless response. "What did you do to him?" I demanded, my voice slightly stronger than before, but quivering. I set my glare upon Spike, upon the needle in his hand. "What did you inject him with?"

"What, this?" He waved the syringe in the air like it was a toy. "Just a sedative. Granted, I may have pumped it a little quickly into his veins, but he'll wake up eventually. Besides, it's not him that I'm after." He grinned again, and his black and blue bangs fell over his cold eyes like daggers. "Just you."

That's when he started to come at me, fast. I turned around and ran, my brain telling me to get away as fast as I could, get to the car, and call the others. But my heart kept reminding me that Greg was lying on the ground, helpless, injured, and my legs trembled at the pressing thought. It's the times when imminent danger is upon me when I suddenly remember unhelpful knowledge – in this case, I was incredibly aware that my communicator was in my jacket pocket, which I left inside the club. So how was I supposed to get word out that something was going down? I almost reached the end of the alley when two more guys, unfamiliar, stepped into view between my precious escape and me. I skidded to a stop as they, too, charged at me – raging bulls chasing the red flag.

I sensed Spike behind me long before he reached for my arm, and Knowledge whispered in my mind.

_Fight back. _

I twisted around and grabbed Spike's wrist, then elbowed him in the center of his gut with my other arm. He "_oofed_"in surprise as his nerves were shocked, and I took the moment to spin on the heel of my boot and hit him square in the jaw with a left hook kick. He fell to the ground a few feet away, and I looked over my shoulder at the two boys still racing towards me.

The one closest to me, the faster of the two, reached me first, and he launched at me in a football tackle. I smoothly stepped out of the way and brought my knee up underneath him, getting him square in the chest. He rolled in the air and landed on his side, groaning and staring at me with wide, angry eyes. But I had no time to linger.

The next second I felt the third one wrap his arms around me and squeeze. For a moment I couldn't breathe, but I pulled my head forward as far as it would curl and then jerked it back. I felt something crack against the back of my skull and guessed it was the guy's nose. His grip released and he backed up a step, holding his nose with both hands and crying out. I pulled my leg back and pummeled him with a side kick, then spun around and followed up with a spinning crescent kick to the face. Next thing I knew, he was bleeding in a pile of trash.

I stood in shock, somewhat unaware of what had just happened. I felt kind of detached from my body, like I was looking in on what I was doing instead of doing it. _Knowledge… _I started, but stopped when a hand clenched around my throat.

"You're mine now, bitch," Spike whispered in my ear, and I felt the deep prick of a needle in the side of my neck. The fluid burned into me like an inferno, and a couple seconds later my limbs began to numb. The world blurred together in a strange blend of color, and the ground vanished beneath me in one last whirl of darkness.

* * *

It was dark for a long time, or at least it felt long. I'm not quite sure. All I know is one second I'm floating in the night sky, the stars glowing beneath me like I was higher than heaven, and the next I was in the hall of mirrors again. Eight reflected versions of myself stared back at me, not turning when I turned, not blinking when I blinked.

Then the mirrors started to spin around me, whipping my hair about my face. The spinning gradually increased, to the point where I felt I was in the eye of a tornado. I tried to look away, to close my eyes, but I couldn't.

Then it stopped. And I faced myself.

Only … the mirror me was crying. Her eyes, a strange color of dull, gold, swelled the size of quarters in a terrified expression. I watched me curiously, and took a step forward. My hand reached out to touch the mirror, but as my fingertips grazed it, the reflection rippled. I jerked my hand back in alarm; the surface was like water, sensitive to every touch. Slowly, I went to touch it again, and instead my hand went right through the glass! _What is this? _I thought.

Suddenly, something tugged my hand forward, and I lost my footing as I was sucked into the mirror. I shut my eyes as I slammed through the liquified surface, and when I reopened them, I found myself staring at the sky.

_Huh...?_

It was a daytime sky, cloudy and blue and sunny. I was standing in a field of grass, and as I looked around, objects started to appear from thin air. They first appeared as skeletal structures, a bit like holograms. In the blink of an eye, they took form of things like swing sets, a jungle gym, and a sand box. And kids. Lots of kids, playing.

I knew this place. It was ... it was... _Samson__ Park! _Yeah. I came here a bunch of times when I was little, just me and my mom. I used to play up in the highest tower at the top of the jungle gym. I called it my secret hideout, and when it was time to leave, I would ride down the red slide and scuff my feet at the bottom.

_But why am I here? How did I get here?_

"Hey, Remi!" I turned around at the call, but nobody was there. That is, not until a little girl ran right by me, without even glancing in my direction. It was like I wasn't even here.

That's because I'm not here.

_I'm dreaming again. This place ... it's another memory. _But that brought me back to my original question: why am I here?

"Remi!" I heard someone say again, and I looked around until I saw a familiar face - my own. I was probably five or six years old, in kindergarten. My hair was long, tied back in a ponytail with a black ribbon. I walked up to the mini me, who was crouched down in the sand box, trying to build a castle with a small blue shovel. I, or she, was wearing jean overalls and a white t-shirt underneath. _Play clothes, _I remembered, feeling the urge to smile.

The urge vanished quickly when a small blond girl about the same age ran up and joined me - Remi - in the sand box. "Wanna play hide-and-seek?" the girl exclaimed, smiling. "Amanda and Mika are playing, too."

Little Remi shrugged. "I'm building a castle," she said, stuffing some more sand on the pile, which looked nothing close to a castle.

"Oh," the blond girl replied, slightly disappointed. But then she perked up again. "Can I help? We can build a moat, too, like on the beach."

"There's no water to put in the moat," Remi pointed out, but when she finally looked away from her work, she saw the hurt, childish look on the girl's face. Remi smiled a bit. "But we can pretend there is." The blond girl beamed, and they started to dig around the supposed castle.

I, on the other hand, was staring at the blond girl with the fiercest look of confusion there ever was. Who was she? I didn't remember playing with other kids at Samson Park. I was always by myself, on the swings or in the secret hideout. But this girl and I were acting like best friends. She even smiled at me, and _I smiled back. _I kept trying to place the strange kid's face, but got nowhere. After all, I didn't have any friends to compare faces to.

Only enemies.

I froze. It wasn't possible. It didn't make any sense. But when the girl looked up, and her bleach blond hair fell away from her face, revealing big, stone gray eyes - I knew. I just ... couldn't understand, couldn't believe.

"Lexis, can you hand me that bucket?" Remi asked. The blond girl reached behind her and gave me a plastic bucket.

_I don't understand..._

I watched as we laughed together, played together.

_She hates me... she always has..._

Lexis reached down over the side of the sand box and picked a small yellow flower, which was really a weed. Still, to a kid, it's a flower. She picked it, and then gave it to Remi. "Here," she said, smiling. "It's a dandelion, just for you." Remi smiled, and put the flower in the center of the sand castle, like a flag.

_At least... I thought she did..._

"Lexis? Lex, where are you babe?" a woman was calling.

"That's my mom," Lexis said, then began waving her hand in the air. "I'm over here, Mom! In the sand box!" A woman walked over, a stiff look in her face like she was smelling something bad. She had one of those walks where she felt more important than everyone else - straight back, tight tippy-toe steps in the grass, chin high in the air. Her hair was just as blond as Lexis's.

The woman took one look at Lexis sitting in the sand and a frown appeared. "Sweetie, you got your pants all dirty! What have I told you about playing in the dirt?"

Lexis glanced at Remi and sighed, rolling her eyes. I didn't think it was possible for someone her age to know what rolling the eyes meant, but she did.

"She didn't mean to get them dirty," Remi spoke up, and Lexis smiled a little at the defense. Her mother, however, stared at Remi like she just noticed she was there.

"Who's your friend, babe?" she asked in a pretend-sweet voice, still staring at Remi in a strange way.

"This is Remi ... Remi, uh..."

"Roth," Remi said.

"Right. Remi Roth. I met her in Mrs. Cookie's class on Monday. We were making a sand castle."

"Do you like it?" Remi asked Lexis's mother, smiling politely at the woman. I was raised to be polite to my elders. But this woman, she didn't return the favor.

"Come on, Lexis," she said, and she grabbed Lexis's arm in her hand in a vice grip, yanking the child to her feet. "We're going home."

"What?" the girl squealed, an angry and frightened look on her face at her mother's abusive grip. "But ... Remi and I were play-"

"You are not allowed to play with this girl, do you understand me, young lady?" The mother was leaning down and shoving a finger in Lexis's face, an inch from her nose. "Do you hear me? Not _ever_."

"Why?" Remi asked, standing up in the sand box.

"Excuse me?" the mother said, her tone offensive. She turned her nasty glare around, causing little me to take a step back. "Was I talking to you? Maybe your slag mother didn't teach you how to respect other people's private conversations." She took a step forward, dragging a dumb-struck Lexis behind her. Remi, startled by the invasiveness and violent nature of this strange woman, took several steps back and tripped in the sand. I watched helplessly as she fell over the edge of the box and hit the grass flat on her back. The wind was knocked from her small lungs and she erupted into a coughing fit.

"Remi! Are you ok?" Lexis said, reaching forward, but her mother held her back.

"Stay away from her, Lexis. She's not the kind of person you want as a friend."

"What's going on?" I turned in relief to see my mother, Raven, running up to the situation. She looked just as young and beautiful as she did the last time I had a dream flashback, but now her face was laced in worry. Yet, somehow, she remained expressionless, emotionless. She knelt down beside her young daughter and helped her stand up, brushing the grass and dirt off her back and waiting for her to stop coughing. Then, she set her infamous glare upon Lexis's mother. "How dare you," she snapped.

"Excuse me? You should teach that girl proper manners. Of course, I wouldn't expect any better from a bastard child."

"What did you just say?" Mom snarled.

"You can't honestly expect a child to grow up properly without a father, can you?" Lexis's mother scoffed. Then she started to shoo Lexis away. "Come on, babe. I won't tolerate you playing with this trash any longer." They started to walk away, Lexis's arm still trapped in her mother's claws. She looked over her shoulder, first at Remi with a scared, confused look in her eyes, and then at Raven. She flinched at the expression on my mother's face, hard and cold and furious, before turning around and leaving, her head down. Mom then turned to talk to me.

"Honey, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Remi answered quietly, nearly sniffling. "Why did she take Lexis away? We were just making a sand castle."

"I think it's more complicated than that, dear. Some people ... just don't appreciate single mothers," she said. Then she straightened up. "Come on. We should go home." And with a softer, more motherly hold on little me's hand, she led me away from the sand box.

I watched them go, then looked down at the dandelion sticking out of the castle. A harsh wind suddenly blew it over, wilting it and sending it sprawling in the sand. The castle itself began to crumble.

And then I woke up, only to find I had left a dream, and entered a nightmare.

* * *

**A/N - I'm proud of myself. I got it done a lot quicker than usual, and it's still a rather lengthy chapter. Anyway, I'd like to note that when FF created the Reviews button, it was probably not intended the use of telling the author repeatedly that they should update. It's getting old, people, and I don't need the reminder. I already know I need to update. What I really want is actual feedback - comments, ideas, criticism, etc. I bet it's more fun to write than the boring, "HURRY UP AND UPDATE ALREADY, RANDOM! GEEZUS!"**

**By the way, Happy New Years to all. Happy upcoming Valentine's Day (not my favorite holiday in the world, but whatever). And DONATE TO HELP HAITI! It's for a good cause! That earthquake was, like, the worst natural disaster in the history of the world, besides the meteor that killed off the dinosaurs. DONATE MONEY AND HELP SAVE AND RESTORE HUMAN LIVES IN HAITI!**

**Or God will punish you. **

**Have a nice day!**

**- random -**


	19. Fear

My Life

Chapter 19:_ Fear_

There have been times in my life where I've woken up in places I didn't fall asleep in. But never, not once in my life, have I woken up in a place I've never been before. Not until now, at least. As soon as my eyes drooped open, lids heavy with an unnatural exhaustion, I knew something was wrong. Really, terribly, wretchedly wrong.

For one thing, my vision was blurred. A bad sign. I lifted my hand to my eyes and rubbed them raw, until I could finally see a little clearer. Still, it was like looking through a curved watch glass - the world bubbled around the edges and arched outward. I closed them for a moment and focused my other senses, but I found myself straining impossibly to train my ears and understand what I was hearing, if anything at all. I sniffed, and knew I smelled something in the air, but I couldn't think of a name to put to the smell. My brain was fried. I couldn't concentrate.

After a long while, or maybe a couple of minutes - who knows - I realized I was lying down in a rather uncomfortable position. I put all of my energy and focus on moving my limbs, which after a few heart-pounding moments I finally did. The ground was hard and gritty, like it was covered in dirt and dust. I opened my eyes as I lifted myself into an upright position.

What I saw confused me at first. I was in a box, the height being too tall for me to stand, and the width being barely spacious enough for me to maneuver around in a circle. The ceiling and floor were solid, but the sides were not. Thick wires crossed along each other all the way around me, in every direction, forming a fence pattern.

I was in a cage.

Slowly, the confusion edged into something else, a feeling spurting to life inside my chest that I had no control over. It was just a spark, but it was a lively one. It was enough for my breathing to become quick and my heart to pound harder.

_Where am I? _I struggled to remember what happened. I was in the alley, with Greg. Something ... happened to him. Someone attacked us. I closed my eyes again and pressed my hands around my temples as the uncontrollable drowsiness consumed my mind. Why couldn't I remember? Maybe if I went backwards...? Attack. Greg. Alley. Shampoo. Lexis.

_Lexis! _Did she do this to me? I didn't think so. No. No, I left Shampoo and she left me alone after ... after something. Think, Remi. _Think._ Lexis. Dancing. With Greg. _Right, okay. _Drinks. Bartender. Blue hair... black clothes... His image is in my head, but I can't put a finger on the...

SPIKE! My eyes flew open as it came in a rush, a wave rolling over me in a rhythmic yet crashing weight. Spike did this. He knocked out Greg, injected me with something. My hand crawled down from my temple to the side of my neck, where I could feel a small tender bump poke through the numbness. A needle mark. He injected me with something, and I blacked out. And then ... nothing. Now I'm here.

But where is here? _What _is here? _Knowledge... _I whispered, _Knowledge, I need your help. Where am I? _I waited. For what felt like centuries I waited, but the voice did not respond. _Hey! _I said, a little stronger. _I said I need help! I don't know where I am! I don't know what happened to me!_

"Who are you talking to?"

I jumped at the voice, for it had broken through the quiet of my mind like a hammer into glass. I looked slowly to my left, finding myself unable to move at a faster speed. And I saw a woman in the cage next to me. I blinked hard, trying to keep my eyes open. Her hair was brown and messy, thrown across her head and sticking to her dirty face. She was wearing a tank top and a long skirt, but they weren't ... right. Something was off about it. Like it had been tampered with. In fact, the woman herself looked like she'd been tampered with.

"You were mumbling to yourself," she said, her voice loud and echoing inside my skull. "Who were you talking to? What were you saying?"

I must've spoken aloud when I was calling to Knowledge. Whatever drug Spike pumped into my neck did something to my brain. "I was saying," I whispered, my voice rough as if I had been sleeping for hours, "that I didn't know where I was. That I needed help."

"We all need help," the woman said. I stared at her, and she waited for me to feel confused about what she had just said. "I don't know where we are on a map," she continued, "but I do know we're somewhere underground. No place above sea level can possibly be this dirty." She gave a small grin, as if she just made a joke. But it didn't touch her eyes. They were dark, glassy orbs, eyes that have seen too much. Eyes that have endured pain, that are still enduring it.

"How long have I ...?" I tried to finish, but my mouth dried up and I felt the need to lick my lips repeatedly. They tasted like mud and were cracked, moisture-less. The mouth of the desert.

"There's no clock, but I'd guess you got here about three hours ago." _Three hours, _I thought, _I've been here for three hours. Do they know I'm gone yet? Did they find Greg in the alley? _All these questions... The woman watched me again, her empty black eyes taking in my wobbled appearance, my intense focus on little things like staying upright or keeping my head straight. "The drug, it knocks you out, paralyzes your senses. You woke up about twenty minutes ago, so the symptoms should be wearing thin in maybe another twenty."

_It's already been twenty minutes since I woke up? Jeez... _I dropped my head down and relaxed the muscles in my neck, preserving what little energy I had. From this new angle I saw that I was still wearing Jory's black dress, and my boots were still on, though one was halfway unzipped and my foot felt loose in the other. The air was rigid and stale, but I felt a chill on my shoulders and chest, the kind that told me I had to pull up my top a little so as not to reveal so much. So I did. I ruffled my hand through my hair, but I couldn't distinctly remark a difference about it without a mirror.

I heard a door open in the distance. The sound reverberated through the ground, and I flinched. The spark inside my chest flickered, growing larger and consuming my insides like fire. My fingertips tingled in anticipation. But then the door creaked closed, and there was silence again; the flames died down. I looked back at my neighbor.

"What's your name?" I asked.

She hesitated, closing her eyes for a moment. A line appeared on her forehead as she thought about the question, but then she muttered an answer. "A... Amita. It's Amita. I'm Amita." She let out a small sigh and looked back at me, her eyes even duller than before. "You?"

"Remi."

"Hi, Remi."

"Hi, Amita."

"I'm sorry you're here, Remi. You don't deserve this. Nobody does."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I thought about how she had to think hard to remember her name, as if she had almost forgotten it. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to know," Amita said, and I waited for the rest. It didn't come.

"To know ... what?" I persisted.

"That it isn't worth fighting anymore," she whispered. "There's no escape." Then, as if she forgot I was there, she turned away and drifted off into la-la land, her hands curled around her knees as she stared forward at nothing. I felt I should respect her moment alone, but I yearned for human contact. The spark in my chest fluttered again, and a thought popped into my head - Would this be me someday? If I didn't get out of ... whatever this was ... would I be like her sometime soon?

It had to have been another twenty or so minutes, because the effects of the drugs were finally wearing off. I was still weak and tired, kind of like how I felt when I healed myself at the construction site. But I could think a little clearer, speak a little better, move a little faster. And I think I could keep my thoughts to myself again. _Knowledge, are you there? _I glanced at Amita, but she was still out of it. So I fixed my boots and my dress, got on my hands and knees, and crawled over to the end of my cage. _Hello? _I snapped with more attitude. _I said a__re you there? I really freaking need your help right about now. _I thought I heard a whisper, and my body froze as my mind strained to listen. But the whisper faded away again, inaudible. A voice at the end of a hallway, facing the wrong direction. It freaked me out even more. _Damn, where the hell did you go? _I thought in frustration.

I put my hands on the cage and rattled it a bit, testing its durability. It seemed pretty stable, and I noticed a padlock on the side that held the door closed. The lock was unbreakable, but the cage was weak. And I was stronger than I looked, that much I knew. I shook the door hard, back and forth, to see if I could maybe bend it in a different direction, break it from the lock. I just needed that one little piece connecting the door to the padlock to break, and I was gold. Amita turned her head at the sound of chattering metal that echoed around the silent room. I tried for three whole minutes before I decided my arms weren't enough. So I rolled over onto my back and started to kick, both feet at the same time.

"Stop..." I heard Amita whisper, but I was determined. The kicking would work. It had to work. I shoved at the cage harder, with as much might as I could muster. But soon I was exhausted. I paused for a moment, took a couple long, deep breaths, and then lifted my knees forward and kicked again, closer to the padlock this time. A grunt of exasperation escaped me every time it didn't work.

"I said stop!" Amita cried out. "Stop! Stop, they'll hear you!"

"It doesn't matter if they hear me or not, as long as I get out!" I retorted, still fighting the cage. "They won't know until after I'm out. And then they'll-"

"But they can see you," Amita said, and I broke off mid-kick and stared at her.

"What?"

"They can see you..." she repeated, and her slender, almost bony finger pointed out of the cage. I followed her gaze to the top of the south corner of the room we were in. A video camera, hidden in the shadows of the grimy ceiling with a red light blinking every second, zoomed in on me as I gazed at it in horror. "They already know you're awake. They know you're trying to escape. And they're coming."

I looked at her again, breathing in asphyxiated gasps. She watched me with her glazed over eyes. "Who's coming?" I asked fervently.

She began to shiver ... shake, really ... and had to take a deep breath before she could answer. "They're coming to collect you now that you're awake," she said in a tearful voice. "You should have pretended to stay asleep. They won't bother you when you're asleep. They only like it when you're awake." She started to cry, and the spark began to grow inside my chest again.

"Amita, please," I said, "What are you talking about? Who are 'they'?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head, her arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders in protection. There were black bruises on her wrists, as if she had been bound for a long time, over and over again.

Suddenly, the spark in my chest burst out in a full scale explosion as I realized where I was ... why I was taken. "Amita," I said, quickly but quietly, "Amita, the people you're talking about? Did they ... hurt you? You know ... did they..."

"I tried to stop them!" she burst out, sobbing. "I t-told them no but they wouldn't l-listen. They just shot m-me up with the drug and I w-woke up in a cage. I tried to shout for help, but they came again. They were s-strong ... mean ... horrible. And Spike..."

"Spike? What about Spike?" I could hear something happening in another room of the building, but I was so engrossed with what Amita was saying, or warning me of, that I foolishly ignored it.

"He tied me up," she cried quietly, almost whispered, "He made fun of me, hurt me. He ... broke me." Amita gasped another sob, and just like that she was back in her trance, tears still rolling out of her empty eyes.

"Amita?" I said, but just then the door to my cage was ripped open and three guys were standing outside. Startled, I scooted to the very back of the cage, my heart beating a mile a minute. I didn't even hear them come in - I didn't even see them unlock the door!

"C'mon, darlin'," one of the guys cooed, "The big guy wants to see you."

"Go screw yourself," I spat at him, not moving an inch. But they only laughed at my defiance. Two of the guys went around to the back of my cage and lifted it up, and I found myself clinging to the wire with my fingertips in a vain effort not to slide down to the entrance. "No!" I shouted, but my grip wasn't good enough. The guy who was waiting at the bottom grabbed my ankle in a vice-like grip and pulled me out of the cage with no effort.

I had barely any time to react before he twisted his fingers in my hair and started to drag me, away from the cage and towards the door. I kicked and shouted and scratched at the bastard, but he was immune. The other two guys came up behind us and followed, making sure I didn't escape.

"It's no wonder the big boss likes this one so much," one bozo said to the other, pointing at me. "She's a feisty one."

"He likes them when they fight back. Me ... I like 'em quiet and crying, when they know I'm in charge." They shared a good, hearty laugh, and I continued to kick at them, aiming for their groins, but to no avail. They were too far away. I could feel my hair knotting and getting pulled out by its roots, and I restrained myself from crying out in pain. Through bleary vision I saw the wretched place that I was in. I was being dragged down a dimly lit hallway, the walls lined with cages - some empty, some occupied with women. Their cries shattered my ears, and one of the guys following us actually kicked a cage to shut them up. The spark in my heart, now a flame, burned hotter than the sun. And through the tears and screams and shouts, and the feeling of my scalp being yanked off, I heard a voice. It was quiet at first, but I closed my eyes and concentrated.

_Knowledge? _I asked. _Is that you?_

_You're going to die._

My eyes flew open again. _What?_

_They're going to kill you. Oh no, you're done for._ I'm _done for._ _There's nothing left to do. We're not strong enough to fight back._

_Knowledge? Are you okay? This doesn't sound like you. _I was so confused, but the feeling inside of me was growing with every word the voice spoke.

_Death is coming, Remi. But first, they're going to hurt you. You know it. I know it. It's just a matter of what's at the end of the hallway._

_Stop it... _I muttered, but it was ranting now. Escalating. I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed at it to shut up. This voice wasn't Knowledge, that much I knew.

_You know as well as I, Remi, what they did to Amita. They'll do the same to you. Over, and over, and over... We're cursed! We'll never leave this place! They'll keep us here forever! And there's no way for the others to find you. No communicator. No witness. We're lost. Oh, no, we're lost for good. Can't you feel it, Remi?_

I didn't reply. I was practically hyperventilating by the time I opened my eyes again, and I was surprised to find I was no longer being dragged. The three men had disappeared. And I was in a room with red brick walls, a big bed with extravagant drapery around it, and a fireplace burning in the center of the room, like a pit. I leaned against the wall, close to the bed but not close enough to touch if I just reached out. I shifted my arms and heard a clank of metal. That was when I learned I was chained, my wrists bound by cuffs.

_Can't you feel it_? repeated the voice. I stared at the fire burning in front of me, watched as the flames engulfed the blackened wood with an infinite hunger. I could feel that same flame eating away inside of me, tearing me apart. And then I realized ... what the feeling was ... who the voice was...

It was Fear.

And it was eating me alive.

Suddenly, the double doors to the big, fancy bedroom opened up, creaking creepily with rusty hinges, and in walked a young, familiar, disgusting face.

"Spike," I growled, but my voice was too shaky to be threatening. The boy in black smirked devilishly as he stood before me and took in my appearance - chained to a wall, _his _wall, waiting to be his ... _plaything._

"I hope my men didn't damage you on your journey down here ... Remi," Spike said, his dark eyes glinting. I should've known he was the pack leader. It was blatantly obvious, yet I couldn't-

_He's going to hurt you... _the voice of Fear wailed in my ear.

_Shut up! _I snapped, watching with wary eyes as Spike sauntered around the room, staring at me hungrily. But it was a different kind of hungry than the dragon people. _I can't deal with this if you keep talking to me._

_You can't deal with it ever, Remi! I've given up. You should, too. All there is left is the fear._

"What do you want?" I barked at Spike, who was circling the fire-pit at a painfully slow pace. I pushed myself to a stand, but I still leaned against the wall. The chains dangled down from my bound wrists and attached to the cement ground. Unbreakable.

"You know what I want," he remarked. "The same thing I wanted back at the club, and in the alley, and every single second I spent waiting for you to wake up. I want _you, _pretty girl, all to myself. And now..." He rounded the corner of the pit and started to rush at me. "I've got you!"

Fortunately for me, I was still quick enough to swoop up my leg and kick Spike square in the chest just before he reached me. He stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. And he was laughing. Maniacally, he was laughing. "This is why I adore you so much, Remi," he said, breathing heavily as if he couldn't wait for this battle to begin. "The thrill of the fight is always so pleasureable. You're just like Amita."

I stared at him, frozen, conscious that he could see my legs visibly shaking.

"What?"

"She fought back, too, for a while. That's why I kept her in a separate room from the rest. She was ... _special_." He started to pace in front of me, waiting for an opportune moment. "That's why you were in the same room as her, because you're a challenge. My challenge. Amita was getting weak and boring, not as much fun as before. I had to replace her. And then ... I met you." Spike charged in again, but I didn't expect it. I wasn't fast enough this time. With my wrists bound, I only had my legs to defend me. And he had just moved in too close for my legs to do any good.

"Stop!" I screamed, squirming away from him. He had grabbed my throat with one hand, his other on my wrist cuffs so they couldn't move. And he was trying to put his slimy, revolting lips against mine.

_I told you, Remi! _Fear shouted in terror, and I found myself shouting, too. "Get away from me! No! Get off!" I felt his hot breath against my face, and I couldn't take it anymore. I brought up my knee, square into his gut, and he grunted in surprised pain. I twisted my cuffed hands out of his fingertips and brought it across his face in a double-punch.

"AAH!" he screeched, falling down at my feet. I kicked him while he was down, but he managed to roll away, out of reach. So I scuttled as far away from him as I could manage, closer to the bed. Despite all my efforts to stay strong, I was trembling with fear. I ... I was terrified. _What if ... what if he wins? I'm not strong enough to take him on forever. And he has guys to back him up._

_See, Remi? You're doomed. We're doomed._

I shook my head. I shouldn't be accepting this fate. I may not be able to fight for much longer, but my friends ... they'll come for me. They'll save me!

_No, they won't, _said Fear sadly, _They don't know where you are. They don't know how to find you. You're lost, remember? Lost..._

Fear was right. I was lost. And I was doomed. Oh, god, no! _No!_

"NO!" I screamed, watching Spike run at me again, feeling him tackle me to the ground just as I felt my hopes of escaping slip away. My strength was fading me, and I started to go numb. Maybe ... maybe if I turn everything off, I won't feel any of it? Then I won't remember as much. Then I won't ... be as afraid as I am.

The tears were flowing down my cheeks by the time I had given up, my body gone limp beneath Spike, who was standing over me. He watched, with obvious dislike flowing in his face and out his expression, as I just whimpered beneath him, waiting for him to do what he wanted. "No," he said in building anger, "What happened to that flare, pretty girl? What happened to fighting back? You're not done yet. _I'm_ not done yet!" He leaned down and picked me up by my throat, and threw me to the ground. I felt my head smack against the floor in a brain-crushing manner. The pain was nothing compared to what I was waiting for.

"Just get it over with, you bastard," I whimpered, still crying. The fire of Fear was blazing inside of me. For a small while, I was hoping Knowledge would intervene, would help me out, but Knowledge had abandoned me, today of all days. And I had succumbed to the flames. It was a horrible feeling, being burned alive from the inside out.

Spike, furious with my surrender, leaned me up against the wall and brought his hand down on me in a backhand slap. His knuckles cracked against my cheekbone, and I tasted blood. But I had been through worse. I just never showed my pain back then, not like now. "Fight back!" he screamed at me, hitting me again in the other direction. I was starting to feel dizzy, and nauseous, but I bit my tongue and did nothing. Spike growled in frustration and picked me up by my hair.

"You bitch," he muttered in my ear, before throwing me atop the bed. The chain caught my wrists and yanked them backwards, so my head, body, and legs were on the bed but my arms were dangling over the side, pulled by the chain. Spike went around and jumped on top of me.

This was it. I could sense it.

The dark moment.

His face was so close to mine that I couldn't see the whole thing. All I could see were his eyes, boring into mine, the anger flaring inside of him. Maybe he should give me to one of his guys, the one that likes it when girls cry and whimper. But even though I had given up, I couldn't bear to look into this monster's gaze for such a long period of time. I turned my head away from him, ignorant of his hands roaming my body. There was something bright red lying next to us on the bed, red and round and somehow familiar.

I lifted my head up and stared at it a little harder, blinking away the tears for a moment. Why was this small little object so significant, you may ask? In a heart-breaking, body-breaking time such as this? Because this little item had, in one moment, restored my hope, my optimism, my feeling, and my defiance. As I stared at the cherry-colored object not even a meter away from me, a small smile broke across my face.

It was Greg's communicator.

Spike must've snatched it after I blacked out, so Greg couldn't call anyone for help. But Spike didn't know that our communicators could be tracked.

The Titans _did _know where I was! And now that my hope was alive and kicking, so were my empath powers. And I could sense them.

They were close. No ... not close. They were _here!_

I turned back to Spike, who had stopped what he was doing and was staring at my smile as if it were the furthest thing to what he wanted to see. "What's so funny, bitch?" he spat at me.

"You're a damn idiot, that's what," I said, and I pulled my legs up and kicked him off of me with all the force I had. He soared into the air and onto the ground with a loud _thud _and a grunt_, _and I rolled backwards off the bed so I landed on my feet. I went to grab Greg's communicator, but the chain wasn't long enough. I couldn't reach it.

It didn't matter. Just when Spike's head popped back up again, the double doors swung open and one of the henchmen rushed in, looking like he was about to shit his pants. "Spike!" he shouted, and I heard crashing noises from outside, like a war was going on. "Spike, we don't know what to do! They're pulling girls out of the cages and knocking us out one by one, and what should -"

A bright red flash flew through the doorway and hit the guy in the back. Screaming, he shot across the room, over the fire-pit, and onto the bed, where he promptly bounced off and onto the ground, motionless. I could recognize that red light anywhere.

"GREG! Greg, I'm in here!" I shouted towards the door, struggling against the chains.

"Shut the hell up!" Spike yelled, and I turned around just in time to get a punch in the face. I collapsed like a tent with no support, my knees scraping against the hard cement. My head felt like it had its own pulse. But when I looked up again, through the strands of my dark, grimy hair, I saw him. He stood in the doorway, his eyes glowing a righteous red, his fists burning with fire. Well, not fire. But close enough.

"Get the hell away from her!" Greg demanded, and he put both hands together and shot a starbolt right at Spike's chest. Spike hit the wall behind him and dropped to the ground, heavy as a rock. He was out of sight now, on the other side of the bed. Greg, his black hair waving as if it reflected his fury at Spike, looked over at me and raised one hand. I watched without fear as he shot a small starbolt at the chain, breaking it in two. Then he put his hands out and went over to where Spike landed, his fists still curled and his eyes still glowing. A vengeful demon.

I was no longer chained to the wall, but my wrists were still cuffed together. I was trying to somehow slide my slender hands out of them when Syrus ran in the room. He glanced over at where Greg was, paused only a moment like he was watching something happen, then ran over to me. "Are you okay?" he asked, his hand on my bare shoulder. I stared at him as if I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. I had no idea if I was okay or not. Syrus waited no more than a second before he tried to get me to stand.

A moment ago I was stronger than ever, the hope inside of me dousing my flames of fear. But now I was as weak as the crumbling pile of wood left over in a campfire. Sy practically had to carry me beside him in order for me to stay upright.

Just then, Darien appeared. His relief to see me alive was conflicted with his rage in seeing the state that I was in. "Is she okay?" he asked.

"She'll be fine when we get the hell out of here," Syrus replied, still holding me up. I clung to his arm like a life raft. I think I was still crying, though they were probably tears of relief. Sy took my arms and held them out to Darien. "Do you mind? There's no key."

Darien made a karate-chop shape with his right hand, and bolts of low-level, controlled electricity sparked around his fingers. In a quick, easy motion, he had chopped the cuffs free from my wrists; there were red marks, soon to turn blue, no doubt, where the bindings used to be. I couldn't find my voice in time to thank him.

"Where are the others?" Syrus asked.

"Still tying up bastards and releasing the girls," Dare replied, his eyes remaining fixed on me. I must be a sight to see if he was giving me that pitying expression. "They're waiting for you."

"Go stop Greg from killing the scumbag who did this to her. He's bashing the guy's head in."

"What?" I mumbled, trying to turn around and see. But Syrus didn't let me. Instead, Darien left us and Syrus started to lead me out the door and into the hallway, where it looked like a bomb had dropped. "Syrus..." I muttered, looking up at him. He glanced at me, a feeling in his eyes I was too dazed to understand.

"Come on, we're getting out of here."

And so we did.

* * *

Strands of dark violet hair drifted down to the sink, layering in swirls. The soft, crunchy sound of the scissors at work was hypnotic, and I didn't want it to stop. But I was done. My hair was cut, and I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror like I was looking at a stranger. That's all I am nowadays - a stranger. I set the scissors down and picked up the photograph of my mother and father. I glanced at the young Raven in the picture, then at my new reflection. Everything was nearly the same: the hairstyle, the face, the skin tone. The only real difference? The girl in the photo was smiling. I was not.

I haven't smiled once since that day. Not to Greg. Not even to my mother. But I can't think about it, because it hurts too much when I do. To think that I had given up? Surrendered myself to that rapist sicko? It made me want to vomit, or slap myself in the face. Whichever comes first.

I hate that Greg didn't kill him. That's probably horrible of me, but I don't care. I want him dead, by any means necessary. Instead, he was sent to jail, along with any other member of the group.

I shook my head and started to run the water in the sink. I tried to clear my mind of the memories, thoughts of the pain, the cages, and ... _him. _Every time they popped into my head, Fear started to whisper in my ear. Knowledge would be there, too, trying to shut Fear up. It tried to explain why it abandoned me, why I couldn't hear it; the emotion was blocked out from my mind by the drugs. When I couldn't think clearly, neither could Knowledge, so it was like _it _was caged as well. And then Fear was unleashed.

I sighed and turned off the sink when all the hair was down the drain. I picked up the scissors in one hand and the photograph in the other, then made my way down the hall and back to my room. It was more like my sanctuary now. I could be alone there. I wanted to be alone. I can't see everyone's worry on their faces, even though I could still feel it. I made it into my room with no interference, and locked the door behind me. I put the photograph back in its frame and set it back in place on my nightstand.

I walked over to the mirror on my wardrobe and sat down next to the new make-up kit I bought. Dark eyeshadows of blue and violet and black, eyeliner, mascara, and some dark-shaded lip gloss, all in one neat pack. I've been feeling so much like my old self lately, and I hated it. So I thought, Hell, maybe change will do me some good. I already got the haircut, a short bob with swooping bangs, and now it was time for decoration. So I took the eyeliner first, unscrewed the cap, and got to work.

Ten minutes later, I examined my work. Not bad for an amateur artist; the liner wasn't too thick, but not too thin either. It chased the lower curve of my eye in an elegant yet bold style, coming off the corners a little in a jagged point. Smokey blue and dark gray eyeshadow clouded my lids, fading lighter towards the eyebrows and heavier at the lashes, which were lengthened with mascara. A light layer of deep red-violet lip gloss glistened upon my lips, but the taste made me cringe - raspberry. _Gag. _I took a paper towel, rolled it to a tip, and carefully dabbed it off, leaving my lips their usual pale, pink-ashen color.

_Now for the outfit... _I said to myself.

_Why bother? _Fear whimpered. _It's not going to change anything. You'll still be afraid to close your eyes._

_Maybe looking different is the next step in feeling different, _Knowledge analyzed. _Remi, I think-_

_NO. Don't you two start up again. _I snapped, digging through my wardrobe and practically ripping out the new shirt I bought. _I don't want to hear it. ANY of it._

_But-_

_Shut your trap! All I want is silence. Is that too much to ask? _I growled.

I could hear Fear start to cry inside my head, and I plugged my ears with my fingers, as if it would help snuff the sound. It didn't. "Be _quiet_!" I said out loud. But Fear's cries only got louder. _Remi doesn't like me! _It wailed. _I wouldn't like me either. I'm a horrible emotion to have. Wuahhaaa!_

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" I shouted, and in a sudden burst of anger I threw the shirt across the room. There was the sound of the fabric catching the air and whooshing around, then a small _thud, _and the tiny sound of something breaking. "Oh no..." I breathed, rushing over to the spot where the frame had fallen, face-down and half covered with the shirt. I picked it up cautiously and flipped it over. A single huge crack had broken the glass in two, splitting the image apart. My heart became painful in my chest - the crack had cut right between Mom and Beast Boy. A visual representation of their break up.

I might have had time to cry if someone didn't knock on my door.

_Who could it be this time? _I pondered, annoyed at the interruption. Each member of the team, parents and teens alike, has individually approached me these past ... however many weeks it's been. First it was Mom, and though we probably connected on an emotional level - you know, with our powers - I didn't say much. She wanted me to know she was there for me if I ever wanted to talk about it. Yeah, that never happened. I told her to give me some time, and she has. This might be her knocking on my door now, though, here to tell me I've been taking advantage of this "time-taking" deal and she wanted to chat.

Or it might be Greg. He's probably the most worried of all the warts, and he's checked up on me more than once. But, just like when Nightwing and Starfire and Darien and Cyborg tried to talk to me, I didn't communicate back. I didn't worry about hurting feelings or anything remotely like that. I just wanted to be left alone. What's wrong with that?

Even Jory tried to talk to me through the door, saying she "didn't know what I was going through, but she was, like, there for me or whatever". She sounded really awkward when she was saying it, so I assumed it was being forced out of her by someone else.

Whoever it was at the door was getting impatient, for they knocked again, harder. I stood where I was, broken frame in hand, contemplating on whether to ignore or acknowledge. After another round of knocks, and what sounded like a couple of kicks, I finally put the photo down. I unlocked the door and opened it barely an inch, just to peek out and see who it was.

It wasn't who I expected it to be at all.

"Get off your sorry ass and get down to the beach in five minutes," Syrus demanded, staring at me with an emotionless expression, the kind I used to be able to control.

"What?" I said, real genius-like.

He scowled a little, but simply repeated, "Five minutes." Then he walked away without another word. I shut the door and thought about this for a moment, because apparently a moment was all I had. Syrus hasn't tried to talk to me like the others have, not since he practically carried me out of... And I never expected him to, either. We're not exactly considered "friends". So why now? What's his ulterior motive?

"Whatever," I said, looking for my shoes. I wasn't in the mood to think, and if I stayed in my room for much longer, that's what I'd be stuck doing. Thinking. But if I go, the worst that could happen is Syrus tries to kill me again. Been there, done that. Nothing new.

I trudged out of my room in black shorts and a hoodie. The shorts were because it was summertime in August, but the hoodie was for the breezy night air down by the water. It was close to midnight, I realized. That got me even more curious as to what Sy was up to. And it made me wonder why I was going along with it.

A moment later, I was out the doors and under the stars, a beautiful sight that was sadly hidden behind a layer of light pollution. That's the city for ya. I took a moment to adjust to the darkness and used the full moon's faint glow to guide me to the beach. The sound of small, calm waves rolling up the sand was pleasing to the ears, but I didn't enjoy the sensation as much as I would have before. I sensed him with my powers before I saw him. He was sitting on Big Boulder, a huge rock that came up next to the Tower and spread out all the way to the shoreline. His silhouette was sharp against the moonlight background, and I took a taste of his emotions in my mind; they were jumbled, a little confusing and hard to distinguish, almost like he was debating with himself about something. There was a faint sense of frustration underlying everything, though, but before I could figure out why, he heard the pebbles crunch beneath my feet and was aware of my presence.

"Took you long enough," he snapped, "I said five minutes. It's been an hour already."

Rude and overexaggerative, as always.

"What do you want?" I demanded, folding my arms against the chill of a salty breeze. Syrus turned towards me, and I squinted through the darkness in effort to see his expression.

"I'm gonna make this as short as possible," he said, and I felt his serious stare bore holes into my brain. "Stop moping around and move on already!"

I was taken aback - I totally thought this was going in a different direction. "What?" I replied, aghast, my face curling into a glare.

"You heard me!" he barked, and suddenly he was on his feet, towering over me. "You've been cooped up in that cave you call a bedroom for weeks, while the Teen Titans have been going on missions one man short. I'm sick of picking up the slack!"

I scoffed. Of _course_! This was about him! Everything had to be about _him, _didn't it? "Go screw yourself," I growled, and spun on my heel; I was _not _in the mood to deal with an angry, stubborn, self-concerned Syrus. I started to stomp away, but didn't get very far before a wall of water swooshed up in front of me and blocked my path. With a frustrated sigh, I realized I should have known better than to walk willingly onto his field without knowing what was up.

"You know what you are?" Syrus started, and I turned around again to face him, a look of pure annoyance I couldn't control bursting from my eyes. Sy stepped down from the boulder without looking away from me. "You're weak. You're stuck lingering in the past because you're not strong enough to get over it. You still aren't worthy of the Teen Titan title."

I pursed my lips together and held my tongue; each word stung like a dart to a board, one after another striking the bulls-eye, but I refused to play along with this "game" or whatever it was.

"See, _that's _what I'm talking about," he continued, shoving his finger in my face. "You hold yourself back, so you never learn from what might happen if you let go and actually _do _what you wanna do. You're a disgrace to the Titans ... and to Raven."

I whipped my head around to look at him, my building anger suddenly bursting into fury. He was starting to sound like Fear, and I hated it. "Shut up," I snapped.

Syrus laughed, not slowing his pace. He stopped right in front of me, so close I could smack him if I wanted. I just might. "Ooh... Did I hit a nerve? Because it's true. I know it, the Titans know it, and you know it, too, don't you ... Goth Roth?"

"I said SHUT UP!" I yelled, and I lunged at him, my fist swinging. He pulled backwards and out of the way. Instead, my hand hit the wall of water, which had swooped around from behind to block my shot. The fact that he even remembered that name, when Lexis used it ... it only made me more furious.

"But I'm wandering off topic, aren't I?" he spoke from an unseeable direction. I spun around and tried to find him, only to find myself surrounded by the water. It was swirling around me in a whirlpool, slashing my hair across my face and splashing my eyes. "You could've taken that guy!" he shouted over the whirlpool.

"Syrus..."

"You could've beaten him to a pulp, but you didn't. Why?"

"I was drugged!" I cried out to the nothingness, "My senses were off. I didn't know up from down. I couldn't have-"

"That's no excuse and you know it! A real Titan would overcome the drugs. In fact ... a real Titan would never have gotten drugged in the first place."

"That wasn't my fault!" I exclaimed helplessly, feeling the tears form. But they were tears of both rage and fright. I still couldn't see Syrus, and the only way of escaping the whirlpool that I could think of was jumping right through it.

"I bet you'll say that the next time you screw up. And the next, and the next, and the time after that! _Excuses! _That's all you've ever given."

"No! There will _never_ be a next time!" I shouted. I'd given up on trying to see him; now I was trying to sense him. But my own emotions were clouding my judgement. I closed my eyes and concentrated on calming down. "I'm not a screw-up and I won't let this happen again."

"Yes you will. Sooner or later, you'll slip up. And that guy's gonna find you, and drug you, and rape you, and you won't be able to stop him!"

_Got him!_

I spun around behind me and threw my strongest roundhouse kick through the rushing wall; my foot made contact with something solid on the other side, and the water suddenly stopped moving. A moment later, the droplets simply fell to the ground in a waterfall, forming a ring of wet sand and mud around me. And I could see again.

Syrus was bent over, clutching his gut with one hand and leaning on his knee with the other. He looked up at me with a grin on his pale freckled face, and I clenched my fists. "That tickled," he gasped, and I brought my fist down on his skull. He staggered backwards several feet, and I chased after him. I punched him again in the face, ignorant of the pain in my knuckles, and while he was hunched I wrapped my elbow around his neck and kneed him, right in the groin. His cry was music to my ears, and I watched with sheer enjoyment as he doubled-over in the sand.

"You think you can just pull me out of my bedroom in the middle of the night and taunt me?" I screamed at him, wanting so badly to kick him while he was down. I had to remind myself that I wasn't that kind of person. "Well, you're wrong! Everything you said? It's all _wrong_! I'm better than you make me out to be."

He coughed, and it sounded like he was trying to say something. "What?" I said, "What else could you _possibly _say to humiliate me, huh?"

"I..." he wheezed, and then coughed again. By the time he could talk, I was thinking about just leaving him there and going inside. "I said ... I couldn't agree more."

"Oh, yeah? Well ... wait, what?"

Syrus's head poked up from the ball he had curled up in. "You really think ... I meant any of that?" he gasped, breathing like he was suffocating. "Well, sure maybe ... the part about me picking up the slack, but ... nothing else... You and me? We're ... on the same page." He tucked his head in again and focused on not throwing up. I stood and watched, my fists curling and unfurling alternatively. Finally, I had to look away.

"You crazy idiot," I muttered. "You used reverse psychology on me? Seriously?"

He coughed again, but the struggle to sit up wasn't as bad as before. "Did it work?" he asked. I didn't answer. Instead I retorted with my own question.

"Why did you do this? You tricked me into beating the snot out of you!"

"Okay, first off, no snot was lost. Just a couple drops of blood and ... an ounce of my dignity. And secondly, I did it because you needed it. Everyone's been off in la-la land, hoping you'll _magically_pull through this on your own like some Houdini. So, I thought I'd step in and bring back some reality." He finally got to his feet, although he was still hunched over a little. "Don't tell me it didn't help, not even a little bit."

I didn't reply, couldn't reply. Of all the people who would do something like this, offer themselves up for a beating session just to make me feel better about myself, I never expected it to be Syrus. Not in a million years. And it did help - it helped a lot! I felt more alive than ever, and for once my blood was pounding in my veins because of adrenaline, not terror. There was still a lot of stuff to think about, stuff to deal with, but I didn't need to do any of that right now. I finally felt like I could move past what happened. So there's a lesson for you, folks: if you're ever in a funk, just go punch the crap out of somebody and make outrageous yet believably declarations about yourself, and it'll be okay.

Syrus walked past me and sat down next to Big Boulder, leaning his back against the stone and gingerly touching his bleeding face with two fingers. A couple moments later, I traced his footsteps and sat down next to him. This small action was followed by the longest awkward silence I have ever endured in my life. It was hell, it really was. And it took me even longer to realize that I was going to have to break it, because it appeared that Syrus was dozing off.

"I'm sorry," I said, and he looked at me in surprise. He looked like he wanted to say something in reply, but before he had the chance, I put my hand over his mouth. Immediately he freaked out and yanked my hand off of him. "What the hell?" he said, but I just told him to shut up and trust me. After a second, when he realized I wasn't trying to suffocate him - though that would be ironic - he let my wrist go and I put my palm over his swollen lip.

The familiar feeling of warmth seeped down my arm and into my fingers; the white light glowed brighter than ever it did before. And the process took only half as long, meaning _Damn! I was getting good at this. _When the light extinguished, I retracted my hand and heaved a silent sigh. Syrus watched me, a confused expression on his face, as his fingers lightly touched the freshly healed skin of his lip. He moved his jaw up and down, side to side, testing it. Then he cast me a sideways stare, as if to ask, _Why did you do that?_

"That's my way of thanking you," I responded, looking away from his eyes and staring out at the moon. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"Don't think we're gonna get all chummy after this," he said.

"Of course not," I said. "You're still a jerk."

"And you're still a hopeless wannabe."

"Gee, thanks." I said it with sarcasm, but I couldn't help it when the corners of my lips turned up just slightly. Another strange anomaly today - Syrus made me smile.

"Yeah, no pr-" He broke off mid-sentence, and jerked his head to the right. At first, I thought he'd suddenly got a splitting headache, but then he looked back at me and I saw the alertness in his face.

"What?" I asked.

"There's something on the shore. I can feel the water pushing up against it."

"Maybe Nightwing and Starfire went out for a walk?" I suggested, but Syrus leapt to his feet with urgency.

"They're not moving. And there's more than two of them." He jumped up onto the boulder and started to climb over to the other side. I got to my feet and followed him.

"What's the big deal?" I called after him.

"Don't you get it, nimwad? Someone could be attacking the Tower."

_Oh. Right. Duh. _Well, that made me run faster. I was nearly keeping pace with waterboy when we spotted dark figures on the shoreline. We slowed our feet and approached cautiously, eyes peeled for danger. There were three of them, all lying half in and half out of the bay.

"They're people," I noticed, and started to walk closer. Syrus held up his hand to stop me. "It could be a trap," he whispered, unmoving. But when I heard a groan, like someone was in pain, I had a feeling that it wasn't. So I brushed past Sy's hand and crept over to the one in the middle.

"Are you okay?" I asked. The person who groaned looked up at me, and I noticed it was a girl with long, curly hair. There wasn't much to see, on account of it being dark and all, but I could've swore the girl had a black eye. "What's your name?" I repeated, kneeling down next to her. She stared at me for a long time, her eyes big and round and thoughtful. But finally she answered in a pained, yet somehow sweet voice.

"I'm Angel."

* * *

**A/N - FINALLY, RIGHT? MAXIMUM RIDE CHARACTERS AT LONG LAST! But who are the other two lying next to Angel? That's for next time. I want to apologize for the confusion on this chapter. I updated it once, then realized how short it was and knew I could make it longer. So I took it down and added more. Hope you liked it!**

**I LOVE CLIFFHANGEEEERRSSS! They're fun.**

**Expect the unexpected next chapter of My Life. **

**Okay, bye.**

**-random-**

* * *

**Special A/N from the FUTURE - It's been a long time, over two years, since I've updated a new chapter to this story. I didn't want to stop writing it, but as things happened in the real world and I found new shiny objects to distract me, _My Life_ didn't exactly stay at the top of my priorities list. I started this story at the end of my Freshman year in high school. Now, I'm a first year in college. That seems so surreal, doesn't it? I'm an adult now. It's ... strange.**

**Keep in mind I still have everything written down for this story - literally _every_ detail of how it pans out, like J.K. Rowling had with Harry Potter before the first book was even published. I think I even have some of the next chapter written down somewhere on this here laptop. And someday, I hope to finish it and finally post it. :P **

**I'm writing this because I still get reviews and PMs sometimes, telling me they want me to finish this story. When that happens, I get a flurry of memory telling me, "Oh, yeah. _That_ story," which gives me a temporary boost of motivation on writing again. Alas, it's a little too temporary, because I never wind up finishing anything.**

**I'll end this note from the future with this little tidbit - expect the unexpected. You might go on your email one day and see a notification telling you a new chapter has _finally_ been added. Surprise!**

**Alright. I'm gonna get out of bed now. Being a college student, I slept in until 5 in the afternoon. Yep. I'm a lazybones.**

**-randomstateofmind**


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